let's begin

the analyst likes to start
with your mother,
that witch, you mumble,
your father, loser, you whisper,
your childhood, those formative
years that have gotten
where you are today.
afraid of one day
living in a card board box
behind the liquor store.
she digs deep
into your angst, using
the sharp blade of her
educated knowledge.
she wants to fix you.
repair the flat tire of
your soul. weld the broken
metal pieces of your bones.
she wants to shave your
head and cut open
your skull, get into
that soft bubble of grey matter
and poke around, see what
the problem is.
she hands you a box of
tissues, but you push it
away and ask for a beach
towel.