I sat all these years with her
almost like a good boy listening to a good mother
I told all I could tell her and even more
Could we have not taken a video tape of the first day I entered
and then a video tape upon the last day when I left?
tell me would I have seen the transformation which she spoke about?
what I remember of myself then was a babbler
and now if I refrain from speaking so much nonsense
isn’t it merely because it talked itself out?

Can it really be possible
that if I never even saw her
not even one minute of my life
I wouldn't feel amiss?
How can it be
that she who listened to my most intimate thoughts
that when I closed the door on our final day of therapy
I left with such relief?
something akin to a fly extricating himself
from a spider's nest
oh God therapy soon became the problem, didn't it?
and now that I am un-entangled from that disease
ah what a sense of freedom
oh my dear sweet old therapist
how I'd like to kick your cunt in.