The dentist’s room had a bicycle painting on the wall
The bicycle was on a beach, its tires in the surf,
It was painted all possible colors except red.

I wondered if this was a Special Dentist Painting
The absence of red calculated, well thought out
Nothing urgent here – no blood – no emergency

I stared at that bicycle for 45 minutes,
Annoyed at the remaining colors of the non-florid bicycle
The surgeon struggled with my shattered tooth

The sales guy would really push the subliminal
Power of the painting, “it’s just what the patient needs,”
Beautiful, calm, relaxing, no red anywhere, like a vacation

Three drops of blood from the procedure have
Found their way to my shirt collar
They form a Bermuda Triangle of dentistry

They don’t notice, maybe that’s where all the red paint goes missing
My non-red bicycle rumination ridicules
The gaping raw hole in my jaw and the
Hissing snake tube, vanishing anything red.