Rob Schackne #601 - "No hard food, says my Indian dentist"

No hard food, says my Indian dentist
I'm a bit out of it in the chair, I ask
She says no hard candies or bones
I mean no mints, table legs, laptops
Moon shoots, bar fights, or regret
No new liberties, grand failures, politics
Marathon boots, or downhill climbs
None of that is good for your old teeth
Poetry she says is OK (maybe Rumi)
Best eating pudding with soft berries
Soups, salads, the meat without trouble
Fruit juice, bug juice, juice of other planets
Good work, old work, the way of the bee
Noodles, rices, friendship, sweet goodbyes
I want them to last you all your life.