I was psychoanalyzed, years ago

An accidental poem from a stranger in a coffeeshop. “I was psychoanalyzed, years ago,” she said. “Really?” I asked, “What was that like?” “Well, I met with a psychiatrist two times per week for three years. And then, when the report was ready I dressed to the nines. My hair was all done, I woreContinue reading “I was psychoanalyzed, years ago”