David Shactman

New writing by author David Shactman, “The Coach Coach”. How many coaches do we need?

The odor. I can’t describe it, but every dentist office has that same antiseptic smell. One sniff and my muscles tense and the old anxiety returns. Automatically, I flash back, and I am eight years old and getting a cavity filled for the first time.

Some people try to swallow pills
To cheer them up or cure their ills
While some resort to eating food
When ere they want to change their mood

I jolt! awakened from my dream in heaven.
Could it have been a seven-forty-seven?
At six a.m. I’m startled to my core.
But soon I realize as my heart beats slower
The noise is just another loud leaf blower
Belonging to my neighbor right next door.

Do you know people just like me,
who can’t decipher poetry?
Who read some verse and want to shout,
“Now what the hell was that about?”