social anxiety

i tell my therapist

that i think

i have social anxiety.

why do you say that, she says,

writing on her legal pad.

i don't like being in a crowded

room with strangers,

where i have to introduce

myself and talk to them.

ah ha. she says.

go on.

well, i tell her, leaning

forward to sneak a peek at

what she's writing.

i'm good with one on one,

or with a group

of friends, like at a party,

and i've had a drink or two.

but new people give me the

willies.

the willies? she says.

tell me about the willies.

oh, well.

you know. that strange feeling

in your gut.

i'm more nervous than a cat

in a room full of rocking chairs.

i see, she says.

and why do you think this is?

i have no idea, i tell her.

i'm hoping you can tell me and

fix this.

can i tell you a secret, she says.

sure, sure.

i lean up to her as she whispers.

i'm the same way too.

i don't like strangers either.

i look at her legal pad,

she's not writing anything at all,

she's making sketches of cats and dogs.