Useless Encounter.

I honestly don’t remember the contents of that therapy, but I do remember his deceit. No amount of psychological practice can teach you to fully hide your feelings and wishes.

Thank You!

“What an honor it must be.”

Switching the position
of my extensive legs,
shifting in the chair,
itching, sweating,
yearning for a scratch,
but I already moved too much.

The room is spacious,
but I seek refreshing air,
stuck inside the theatrical box,
with the walls of glass,
designed by some expressive mime.

He sits in front of me,
relaxed, legs-crossed,
inspecting the ample
stack of papers,
sitting messy on his lap.

Glasses on the tip
of his long and pointy nose,
journey up and down,
two chubby kids,
sliding on the playground slope.

So your name is Moses,
and you were born
on the day of birth and passing,
of our Prophet Moses?
What an honor it must be,
he said before he paused,
for a moment of the dishonest smiles,
and hollow words.

My mind is changing worse,
Desire to remove the heavy jacket,
but I don’t move,
because that’s rude.

Now tell me all about your life,
he continued,
keeping that bent smile,
thinking that it worked.

Share with me your vision of the future,
let us become true buddies,
so you can narrate your secret hobbies,
so we can relate.

You skeptical of me, that’s handy
but no worries, we now buddies, will not blab,
I got no reason to attack.

Yes, there are commitments to fulfill
before your tutors, teachers
and bearded Rabbis,
traveled from the time long gone.

I’m all ears,
go on, tell me,
spill your inner waters on this Persian carpet,
just try to fit in 45.

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