by Freida Marie Crump
Greetings from Poosey.
It was Déjà vu. There I sat… aging, sagging a bit to the left, running a hand over my support hose, when suddenly I was a six-year-old girl sitting in the dentist’s waiting room. Going to the dentist was the only continuing fear of my childhood. Mess with my toes, tinker with my backside, but come near my teeth and I start to