Back in the old days, Jim and I used to email each other a lot more often. On November 17, 2003 Jim went on some work trip and took our only tube of toothpaste with him. Here is what I had to say about it (poetically and as archived in my hotmail folder entitled "specials"):
My Breath (To be read in bohemian style with bongo drums in the background and a soft sax if you feel in the mood)By Claire:)
I'm so glad that you took the toothpaste
And left me in the bathroom alone
with a toothbrush
baleful bristles pointing upward
towards my open mouth.
I'm so glad that my toothbrush is so worn
that even brushing with water
feels like not brushing at all
and when I floss
I can still taste the salt
You, who brush your teeth so diligently
In your Hilton hotel
In your boxer shorts and your falling off glasses
You, who lavish the feel of the foamy frothiness across your teeth
Left me alone with no toothpaste.
Left me alone with nothing but an empty sink.
FINI
Jim responded by writing a poem full of suggestions for how I could brush my teeth without toothpaste:
Oh how the guilt eats me
For leaving your toothbrush alone
Without it's companion,
it is so far from home
Maybe my love can improvise
By mixing some mint and cheese
Or maybe baking soda, with a pinch of dry bay leaves
Or maybe my love can wait
Until I return this night in haste
With a bag full of kisses,
and the missing Crest toothpaste
I'm pretty sure I went and bought some toothpaste.
