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   29/01/2022
   61@61
   Poems
   Willemse, Wendy
   Rip Van Shrinkle - Ode to a Narcoleptic Therapist
   
   
Took a bus to Bris-Vegas       
Draped in my role for the day
Coiled tight as a spring
On the south-east freeway.
 
Stumbled to the Terrace
From the wood panelled bar
Backward thinking, bourbon drinking
To my private bell jar.
 
You shared your insights
Suggested what I should do
If it were that easy
I’d have no need for you.
 
Your ill-concealed judgment
Never made me feel better
Averting my eyes
To your sleeveless wool sweater.
 
Watched your lids droop
In your Silverton tower
Confirming my worthlessness
Confirming your power.
 
I’d fight the temptation
To mess with your head
To wait till you wakened
And say "… so I’d be better off dead”
To stand by the window
Threatening to leap
To creep from the room
And leave you asleep.
 
The day when you snapped
You said I was impaired
But you snoozed on my time
While I sat and stared
At the shine on your boots
And the damn knitted vest
Feeling insignificant and dull
And doubly depressed.
 
If you were so smart
If you were so great
You’d see it was you and not me
Who ripped off the State.
 
It was you who fucked up
You were the blight
It took me too long, DM
Good riddance, sleep tight.
   

This poem represents the poet's personal experiences with a therapist who should probably have been deregistered for professional negligence.


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