Bad Poems #6

My new toothbrush has a small head
oval and precocious
soft white bristles all of equal length
the toothpaste sits on top of them like a fakir
after Rodin, floats strangely.
In my mouth it doesn't assert its presence
slides over my teeth
smooth and fast
like the new ballpoint pens I bought at Migros
green blue red black
a German name and bright blue casing
smooth and gliding across the paper
that is how my new toothbrush feels.
The toothpaste doesn't seem to make any
real contact with my teeth.
My movement is too brusque,
shoving it around, with its small head
it is too small to withstand my usual motions.
Lately the toothpaste has made me feel sicker than usual.
Four times I have retched, wretched,
neck hung over the sink
wincing, long drops of saliva suspended from my lip
like okra, sweetly foreign texture on my tongue
lady's fingers, snotty salivary strange feeling
almost as strange as when a persimmon is eaten
at the wrong time (too early or too late? I don't remember)
and it makes my mouth feel fuzzy and unbearable
my whole body contorts with discomfort
hair hanging over the sink.
Maybe it's the type of toothpaste
not the standing tube like at the orthodontist's
but the clear blue with specks and stripes
not white with pink
but almost translucent blue.
Perhaps they have different ingredients.
I hope I don't actually throw up.