They left you dangling on the edge of the counter, bristles still damp,
left you as they packed up cans and boxes, flashlights and clubs,
left you just where you could hear the shrieks echoing off tiled walls—
but not quite where you could catch a glimpse of beasts in the mirror.

And the boys invaded in ski masks, combed through every inch,
took sweaters and silverware and red Solo cups,
bulldozers determined to leave no stain of human existence—
when they tore through the bathroom, they stole all your friends.

"Wait!" you wanted to shout.  "Take me!  I have Crest Whitening, 
and I'm guaranteed to exterminate plaque!  Don't you know 
I'm recommended by five out of six dentists?"

Where are the dentists now?