any long term
plans, goals.
where do i see myself in five years.
i'm stretched out
on her long therapist couch,
staring at a bowel of nuts
on her coffee table.
i wish i could reach them
with my hand, but i can't.
why would she put those nuts
so far out of reach?
is this a test?
Hello, she says, are you still with
me. i asked you a question.
oh, sorry. sorry, but
is it okay if i have some nuts,
i ask her and some water?
i use my foot to move the table
closer to me,
then bend forward to grab a
handful of nuts.
salted cashews.
she hands me a bottle of water
then settles back into
her big red chair.
so, she says. what are your goals,
your aspirations?
are there things you'd like to achieve
in this stage of life?
it's no longer the nuts, i think
to myself.
hmmm. well, i say.
i'm thinking about taking a long
nap when i get home today,
i tell her.
maybe read another five pages
from the Sylvia Plath
biography that i can't seem to plow through.
i hear the therapist writing
something down on her yellow
legal pad, as i crunch down
on the nuts,
then underlining what she wrote
with long hard strokes of her pen.
how do you feel about medications?
she asks me.
and maybe coming in twice a week?
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