Just ... Kidding!

The high-pitched whine of the drill
ringing in my head reminded me of
my two little dogs whimpering and
whining at being left at home, alone.
Bent toward me, the dentist looked
like a garage mechanic, face-masked
gloved, a plastic shield covering her
face, voice strangely garbled and I
imagined myself a motor vehicle
hood up, mechanic probing deft fingers
here and there to determine why the
hard-driven machine was balking. I
do drive myself as hard as one can
over 80, someone whose parts groan
and whinge, creak and balk, yet I'd
like to preserve those teeth in as good
condition as conceivable to continue
enjoying the sensuous pleasure of
eating since doing so preserves and
conserves advance into the future.
She knows quite a bit about me now;
that I have not in the last four months
left the province or the country, have
no symptoms of COVID, cleaned my
hands with antiseptic gel at her invitation
inclined my forehead to prove I wasn't
feverish. Seated on that inclined chair
so feared as a child, designed to knead
a patient's back to soothe childish
concerns I may be hallucinating. Could
be I am imagining myself a mechanical
vehicle hard-driven, but with care some
life left in it, more miles to go, perhaps
even a trip somewhere if COVID passes.