Balance

Balance

Only my second dentist’s appointment
This decade. Last time I could tell she was
In a hurry; I’d barely swallowed twice
The taste of rubber gloves on gums, and tuned
In to mesmeric bingo-caller code
Punctuated with sharp metallic clicks.
This guy was Greek, I think. Meticulous,
Worse luck. Two daughters and a wife in tow
This time; it must have been a good few years.

The day ran away down the A40:
Scouting out schools; a parent-and-toddler
Singing group; a doctor’s appointment too –
Could be asthma but it’s too soon to tell.
Wet winter. Does it run in the family?
Back to M&S car park for 3G.
The storms have hit hard: an exchange is down
And no one knows how to fix the phone-line.
Home through rain. 100 Broken Windows

And there they are: 3.3 kilos of
A4, rubber-banded, wrapped in plastic
Twice, addressed to me, in plain sight, balanced
On the mailbox. Money Saving Expert
Said to stipulate 40 days or less
And so it came to be. Since I threw out
My cassettes and diaries, this is my
Completest history: 12 years’ worth of
Bank statements, tracing my days from student

To graduate; from émigré to me;
Through train stations, chain pubs and record shops
Via hardship funds and overdraft fees.
It’s all here. Inside winds have abated
And our Rayburn’s ready to be relit.
It’s a solid-fuel-to-oil conversion,
Undoubtedly older than me and V;
The technician who came to service it
Last summer said its electric pump is

Illegal; if we have a power-cut
And happen to be out it will explode.
Warm-enough chips and buildings insurance
Are comfort enough for now. And that stack
Of bank statements rests on the work surface
Like a bible, or Joyce’s Ulysses.
Maybe the room will kindle in the night –
Yes, and all the lights across the globe will
Go out, and decades of debt will be wiped.

This epic volume of biography
Will be lost to sirens, static and smoke;
Rendered meaningless by a stroke of fate.
And maybe I’ll emerge a wiser man,
Less a coat; or else just forget the date
Of my next dental appointment. Three fillings.
I have always had perfect teeth. At least
They’ll be able to identify me,
Should the need arise, for annuity.

 

Appears in:
Rhymes for all times [2015]

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