The Hygienist

Hygienist, in your dental chair
I sit without a single care
Except when tickled by your hair,
And when you do to prep the drills
I never fear the pain that kills.
You make my molar clean
With tastes of wintergreen,
So I lean back in calm reflection,
With close up views of your complexion,
And taste the flavor of your thumb
As you massage my flabby gums.
To me no lady could be smarter,
Than she who scrapes away my tartar,
And none more fitted for my bride,
Than she who knows me from inside.
At least so far as she has gotten,
She knows how much of me is rotten.