In dreams one's teeth fall out.
You find them crumbling, you reach and pull them out,
embarrassed, tuck them in a napkin away into a pocket.
Soaked in the brine of disappointment,
disillusions long held in the mouth, a clenched jaw,
as if looking in--or up--on gentle consciousness
was like standing on the moon
and looking back at the sweet round blue world
glowing in godly darkness,
full of sweet possibility.

You dream you were permitted to hang around,
quiet and innocuous enough of a ghost--
a pacifist, really, too much so for life's dealings--
while something private between her and her father
you didn't understand was going on,
as if she needed perfect peace and quiet,
while your teeth, the back ones crumbling, fall out,
leaving stubs,
so that quietly, you leave.
Back to your own place,
as another tooth, this time a front one
loose already at the base,
starts to crumble.