therapists in the food court

you overhear
two therapists talking one
day
in the food court.
their office is next to the Gap,
not the real Gap,
but the Gap outlet.
one is dining on
an Asian
dish, deep fried rooster
and rice and the other
is having a cinnamon bun
the size of her head
with a cup
of coffee.
they are discussing patients.
they don't
see you, or notice
that you might
be listening as you suck
on the straw
of an orange Julius.
she's a loser,
the one therapist says.
dates bad men.
can't hold a job, can't sleep
at night.
she wants to go back to school.
at her age. ha.
I almost want to tell her
to jump off
a bridge.
the other one laughs
and sips her coffee.
I have this one patient,
she says, who
thinks he's funny. he thinks
everything is funny.
he can't stop
joking around,
it's a cry for help really.
the insecurity
of these people is astounding.
I told him he needs to settle
down, get married
again
and take life more seriously.
but does he listen, no.
what do I care,
he can keep coming as long
as he wants to.
cha ching. she says, rubbing
her fingers together.
then the other one says, cha ching,
but louder.
they high five,
then head back to the office.