Known for humming when he drilled.

Singing, his kind of Novocaine.

His FM tuned to the newsy station.

Across the border, where life seemed

better. In the BBC’s clear Canada.

Better than waiting for the Novocaine

to take. For his drill to do its work.

Numb, for us to try to speak.

Letting water spill from our lips.

Swish, is what he said. When sitting

in his tilted chair was almost over.

And we could forget we weren’t

the first astronauts to land back

on Earth. Later, for pain to go

where pain goes. When it’s gone.

Knowing, whatever Doctor Green sang

worked. (Remember he was one

of our volunteers volunteering

at Middlebury’s Festival on the Green.)

And how, between sets, he would walk

amidst the crowd. With his donation bucket.

Not having to say anything. Humming,

what was so familiar.

Gary Margolis

Cornwall