Dracula

Protruding, rebelling against the lips,   

the long, pointed, ill-fated fang stared at me,   

(in spite of awkward attempts to hide it).   

Stealing adolescent glances,   

I dreamed it pierced me, pushing deep in the base of my neck.   

I bit my lower lip, flushed,   

but not before blushing under its spell.   

Yesterday,   

Yesterday when he smiled at me, with teeth in perfect alignment   

          (dentistry can work miracles),   

I turned my apostate face,   

and squinting, pretended to watch passersby.