short woman vs. a shite toothbrush

having bought the toothbrush

as she had bought so many before,

certainly she never thought that

this one

would be the one

to splinter off between her teeth &

leave her struggling

to get it out,

prior to her departure for work.

 

with the minutes burning away like

birch bark in a wood stove---

curling quickly in

bright red flames---

she began to get more frustrated,

for even on her tippy-toes,

she could not grip the tweezers correctly

in order to pull the piece of bristle

from the space in those teeth.

 

starting to panic,

as she glimpses back at the clock,

she wishes the husband was still in the house

but he went to work earlier.

 

she wishes she’d gotten up earlier,

she wishes that she had bought a more

reliable toothbrush

(recalling that she had stood for quite a while

in the aisle contemplating, but never fully

satisfied to begin with, regarding her choice

made),

she wishes a lot but no wishing will remove

the bristle &

what if she goes to work with a bristle

sticking out?

she will have to keep her mouth closed the

whole day---

she will have to…

she will have to…

but then

the click, bang, boom

of an idea bulb flashing in the mind,

brought on by an increase in tension,

an increase in stress &

the absurdity that was felt on all levels

that the situation might’ve been just a little easier

if she hadn’t been so short, or perhaps,

if the mirror above her sink,

hadn’t been fastened so high up---

she goes to her husband’s work bench in the garage,

turning her car on while out there &

with mini pliers in hand,

she runs back & pulls the bristle without much thought &

without a look back in the mirror---

success!

success!

success!

 

and she got to work on time &

she had a funny story to tell,

and it goes without saying that

she spent an extra few cents the next time

she bought a toothbrush.