The rain was downpouring on Monday evening.

Cork city centre was dark at 7pm because black clouds hung low. No one was outside on Oliver Plunkett Street.

I certainly wasn’t. I was warm and snug in the Hi-B, halfway into a pint of Guinness. Myself in the corner next to a couple who were leaning into each other.

I can’t resist eavesdropping. A habit from childhood.

Why have I never told you you have wonderful teeth?”

Thinking about it “could anyone resist listening in to that?

She said nothing at first, as if she’d misheard.

Your teeth are precious.

I saw him cross his ankles & tuck his legs under the seat. He pulled back from her eyes smiling.

How do you mean … precious?

They sparkle, so white. I’ve never seen teeth like them.

In all my fifty plus years paying wrapt attention to the intimacy & frivolity of others, I’d never seen anyone woo anyone by complementing their teeth.

It reminded me of the teeth poems I’d written when I was working for the National Trust.

The cleaner who changes her toothbrush 47 times a year…

The father who manages on two brushes a year…

Sounds like you fancy my teeth?

That’s not all he fancies, I said to myself.

Published by

Paul O'Mahony

I'm Paul O'Mahony (Poet). On Twitter you can reach me @Omaniblog A father. I work as business storytelling consultant - Podcaster - Blogger - Live streamer via Periscope - Foodie - I love to connect with people. . Live in Glanmire, Cork Ireland Europe linkedin.com/in/paulhomahony

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