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By Misti Date: 2003 Sep 04 Comment on this Work [[2003.09.04.17.00.31414]] |
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washing away my perfect hair staring in dismay at my frazzled reflection in no way similar to the recent vacation photos slathering on the SPF 15 and Jupiter by Cargo foundation with a dusting of CoverGirl powder coating my lips with N.Y.C. pale pink gloss driving through indifferent traffic to the psychiatrist's office got there on time but he was running late skimming through National Geographics reading about male zebras fighting bloody for a mate on the veldt the receptionist reminds me of my brother-in-law the painting on the wall reminds me of Dali if Dali were several IQ points lesser and on ten daily milligrams of Zyprexa Dr. Wilson finally sees me but he can't find my chart can't remember how many times he's seen me which drugs I'm on the nature of my problem how's it going? fine on 40 milligrams of Celexa no crying jags to speak of sex is okay when it happens except for on the rare occasions when it's truly sublime but yeah I am tired all the time and I can't work up enough motivation to put all the clean clothes away scrub the tub the toilet the sink let alone transcend this shit economy and instant gratification culture blossom into somebody noble and compassionate and on fire for the truth whatever the cost so he tells me I should take 60 instead of 40 and see a therapist not a man, he stresses but a woman I would do well with a woman I don't tell him about the two previous female therapists and how much I loathed them we're going to get you better see you in three weeks driving thinking of the flashing red light that means there is no gas in the tank and the October birthdays I need to buy for and the dream bra I covet but is it really worth twenty dollars and I have to save at least ten bucks each week to buy myself some permanent perfect hair in December 300 to 500 dollars, I was told including three meals at the salon and any kind of snacks including Ben & Jerry's 300 to 500 dollars for hair I won't have to fuck with straight and shiny no curls no frizz no dangerous nest bushing out around my small pale head I'm thinking of conversations I'll never have I'm thinking of people I'll never meet but everyone including my dead uncle tells me it doesn't matter I don't have to shine I don't have to be anywhere at all but I've got to keep writing black words on white are harder to ignore. |