lunch time with your therapist

instead of whining
like a baby every time
you come in here,
why don't you just
do something
about your problem
your therapist
tells you as she
takes a bite of
her Italian combo
sub sandwich.
you raise your head
from the long
couch you're lying on.
you look at her chewing
loudly, her mouth open,
with lettuce
between her teeth.
isn't it a little
rude to be eating
during our session,
you tell her, raising
your voice
to what she would
call an interesting level.
she wipes some
mayonnaise from
her mouth. don't get
snippy with me
she says. I have
a tight schedule.
go look out in
the hall I've got
more nuts than you
to deal with today.
now what were you whining
about again.
some girlfriend, wife.
your mother. I've
lost track.
tell me again, but
condense it a little.
don't be dragging
the story out.
you're on the clock.
before you start,
I don't want
my pickle. you can
have it if you want
it, here. she tosses
the pickle to you.
I think it's dill.
you take a bite,
then start telling
her about the time
your mother forgot
your birthday.