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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 58

Ode To A Counselor

sadness means
just seeing a counselor
who dissects problems like algebra equations
X equals more time on the treadmill or
painting rainbows when it’s storming
it’s a simple solution

who cares what happened?
your sister got decapitated?
paint a child on a blue trike
mother ran off?
channel forgiveness and jot down your feelings
and associations that doesn’t work

history is subjective, the counselor proclaims, while he
talks a little too loud
and laughs a little too little
and strides too fast. but he’s got six degrees
concealing fucked-up souls beneath Freudian beards
and penis shaped umbrella racks

just pop a pill, white, yellow, purple
pretty popping pills
pills carpet bomb Dresden of consciousness
at least you smile
for a moment, a fleeting moment
and you can always see a counselor

repeat, rinse, time for more pills

meanwhile the counselor has blown his brains out
his penis on his desk
carefully preserved in memory
of ideas, infallible ideas, but don’t cry
go see another one. It’s easy
really easy

sadness just means seeing a counselor

  Yash Seyedbagheri