same day, same time, next week?

tell me

a little about yourself

before we go

on,

the therapist

says, sitting across

the room

with her yellow legal pad.

so i spit out the basics.

divorced,

one grown child, who lives in Portland

with his mother,

Cruella deVille

i write, i read,

i bike,

i eat and sleep,

i exercise.

i still write checks out of a

check book,

and buy stamps.

i like coffee and movies.

i dress casual

and sometimes wear

a hat if it's

cold or sunny outside.

i sleep on my left

side most nights.

i like living alone,

but never feel lonely.

i have no cats or dogs,

or plants that need watering.

i take no medications

but cut my own hair.

sometimes i like

to travel,

to the beach or to NYC.

i have three brothers

and three sisters,

half of which i get along with.

both of my

parents have passed

away

and i miss them.

i've lost six lifelong friends

over the past

seven years.

men and women.

i still have their numbers

in my phone

and occasionally

dream about them.

i enjoy working

with my hands, and sleep better

when i have

a hard job to do.

i sing in the shower and in

the car,

but not in front

of people.

i rarely drink alcohol, or eat sugar,

but will make rare exceptions

on holidays.

my favorite color is indigo

and my Achille's heel

are women with

long legs

wearing stilettoes

and a swipe of lipstick.

oh, and i'm

thinking about buying a little

sportscar

once i retire.

okay, okay, the therapist says,

stopping

her pen. whew.

i think our time is up, see you

next week, same time,

same day?

i think you might be able to help me.