the lemon pie cake

my therapist, who just
bought a new car, has been
busy lately,
what with the holidays,
the divorces
the sex changes.
who isn't confused about
something.
she's nosy. too,
obsessively so,
keeps asking me all these
questions
about my childhood.
my mother,
my father, why I don't
wear any shoes,
or underwear.
it's my business what
my attire is.
I want her to wave a magic
wand
and make me happy.
content.
make me forget that
my mother forgot my birthday
when I was twelve
and bought me a lemon
pie instead of a cake.