Untitled I walk

through life

with a shrink

from Yugoslavia,

whose as large as big foot.

With a novel in one hand, 

and shaking his fingers at me

with the other,

he wants to control me with a shovel,

tie me in knot balls, emotional twisters,

and squeeze the emotional pages

out of my life like a twisted sponge.

I retaliate, control him back,

wage war in a vicarious cycle

squeeze his testicles like electrical wires

inside my mind’s eye,

cut his tongue with razors,

dull his clinical words.

Play his game, only better.

He  picks up the play phone,

threatens to call the police,

leashing me in my corner

like a trapped dog

forces me to bark

into submission

like a beagle basset bitch.

He treats me with word babble.

I tell him he is a damn Ukrainian idiot.

Peeved off I race

to the parking lot, head to the bushes,

like a blue racer snake threatened,

hop bunny rabbit into my S-10

Chevy pick-up truck,

memo pad in hand,

scribbling ruminating notes

I surrender naked till my next prescription,

untitled I walk.

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You’re the empty glass that’s still half full,
An angel, one wing dysfunctional.
The kid who’s never quite like the rest,
A puzzle with some pieces missing,
A beaver with one tooth, at best.
The luscious lips without the kissing.
Sometimes life will give you lemons
And sometimes only one.
Take these gifts and learn their lessons,
Your battles aren’t always meant to be won.

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