Too much of my life I’ve spent complaining to someone or other
about how my past should have been this or that,
it’s a wonder my mind hasn’t fallen off its hinge and started quacking.
I realized this tonight while I was complaining to my therapist
about how I thought poetry should be tempered more these days with
boatloads of consciously directed imagination.
I followed this lecture by explaining how I think organizations
should be restructured with clear vertical pathways to promotion,
so that the majority of employees didn’t feel like they’d been waiting
in horizontal line to horizontal line all their lives.
Kindness, I complained, was to blame for my career, relationship
and mother issues, since it allowed me to be taken advantage of
by leaders and loved ones who practiced indecisive leadership
to deflect responsibility, possibly, I’m not sure that I’m not sure, but even.
I illustrated that the way I blew my marriage
one fateful morning was by simply dipping my toe in the raging river of
emotions stirred up by irreconcilable differences between my ex and I,
where I watched myself get pulled under and made to disappear
by an unstoppable force,
like a house riding the surge of a sudden tsunami into what used
to be an alleyway where cats gathered to be worshipped like gods.
I didn’t feel like much of an adult anymore, but more like a kind of
“message in a bottle” I said.
I went on to share how I often think my poetry
gets less fun for me to write the more distilled I make it,
writing the ambiguity out of it for the sake of being able to
understand myself. As a happy biproduct I get to know myself
and others perhaps a little more biasedly.
Which, may, come to think of it, be why I’m here in therapy,
sitting on this couch, half-listening to a white noise machine
fake ocean waves that reflect the constant disappointment
I’ve been, up until this point, sort of washing up to.
Like a parent who cancels their meeting to discuss a possible promotion,
in order to spend an evening with their child, who, for what seems like forever,
has been begging them for a little more me time,
I know I can always float an ask to bring home the pet snake of the heart
nobody wants, and nobody will say no to that. But that pretty much
means almost nobody but me will care to be around that snake either.