Song in the Dentist's Chair

End of summer. Birds sing shorter notes. Dying requires only the smallest arias, eh Puccini?

NB: of Puccini and birds all I know for sure is the maestro loved duck hunting—the joke is, he ate every duck in Italy.

For a poignant theme, remember all songs are time sensitive. Meantime:

let us praise our maker, sing a little air—these fake teeth will outlast me—like love we don’t know where. 

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto