Sunday, January 11, 2015

Another Thought on Teeth

I'm standing in the bathroom, brushing my teeth with that sort of blank, diffuse inattention one has for an action one has performed almost every night for 43 years. There's a slightly sore spot on my gums, back on the top inside right side, near the space where my wisdom teeth used to be, and I brush it a little more thoroughly, as if to punish it for having the nerve to pain me.

It strikes me, all of a sudden, as each action triggers a net of memories, all them connected one to the other, that I am in this moment as young as I will ever be again.

I lean down and spit blood into the sink.

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