Lily and the New Shrink 1969

A woman in a mental ward has to see the new shrink

I had to see a new shrink today;

The old one had retired

Before his brain gave way

To mediocre, or so the nurse

Who brought me said, 

Although not so much in words 

More in what she didn’t say. 

When I entered his room

It seemed somehow brighter,

Less cluttered with junk

Or photographs or framed

Certificates; just the occasional

Pen holder and a brass statue

Of the Buddha. That kind, huh?

I muttered to myself, avoiding

Gazing into his dark eyes,

Or listening to his whiny voice.

He said to sit so I did as he asked.

My old familiar chair was still there.

But the paintings that the old shrink

Had on the walls, were gone,

And there were alteration in colour

On the walls where the paintings had been.

He began as they all do with questions 

About my well-being, to which I replied

As I usually did with a mouthful

Of created lies. I noticed he had

A small mole on the side of his face,

Not big or unsightly, but noticeable

Like a lighthouse on a hill. The nurse 

Had left me with him, and his chatter

And that god awful whining voice. 

I replied to his questions creatively

Like a new author seeking to impress;

But whether he believed what I said

I don’t know, but I did inside my head.