the therapist's office

i stop

by the therapist's office

to give

my old therapist,

Dr. Freud, a painting

and wallpapering

estimate,

she wants to jazz the place up

a little,

put some calming

colors on the wall,

and peel and stick wallpaper.

her waiting room is packed

solid

with twitching teenagers

and their zombie like parents.

legs are shaking,

eyes flickering, hands beating

invisible drums

as they stare into their phones.

i ring the bell

to let her know i'm here.

she's a mess.

she's gained weight, her hair is

grey,

no makeup, no smile,

she's gnawing on a twixt bar.

i think you need more than

paint here, i tell her.

just saying.

she whispers in my ear

as she lets me in.

people are crazy and getting

crazier she says.

i'm done in about five years.

what colors do you suggest?

black, i tell her, or

slate grey, perhaps midnight blue.

maybe padding

on the walls.