why the glum
puss
my therapist says, smiling
in a therapeutic way,
crossing her
legs
and studying
my body language
like a cat on sill
staring out the window
at tweety
bird.
oh, you know. I tell
her.
same as last week.
rinse and repeat.
rinse and repeat.
wash me clean doc,
then hang me out to dry
in the cold December
air.
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