My therapist asked me:
What are you thinking?
I said: Nothing.
My therapist said to me:
No one thinks nothing;
there’s always a new thought
moiling to the surface.
So I made something up
and she pretended to be pleased.
My therapist asked me:
What does it mean?
I said: Nothing.
My therapist said to me:
Doesn’t matter what you tell me–
even your grocery list–
it all has meaning.
So I made something up
And she pretended to be pleased.
When the session was done
I rose from the couch like a John
pulled a bill-fold from my pocket,
peeled off satisfied twenties.
“Same time next week?” she asked.
Guess I’m a regular. I nodded.
Then I stepped outside
onto the cold pavement
and I wondered what I was
supposed to pretend to be feeling.