Wiggly Lines

THE SHRINK

By Frances Harris

His glasses hang loose on the end of his nose,

He’s doing the wards while checking his notes,

Both eyes are fixed; then he looks straight ahead,

Making me feel I am already dead,

An intern goes by and gives me a sneer,

I think they’ve forgotten my life’s on the line,

Uppers and downers and little red pills,

Magical powers that give me a chill,

I wander around and bump into walls,

While telling the phantoms to get out of town,

I can’t make a friend, ‘cos most are asleep,

That nurse I saw yesterday’s looking at me,

I don’t think she likes me, since yesterday’s round,

They told me I kissed her when we hit the ground,

My memory is fogged, I barely recall,

We went to the floor when she reached for the vial,

The sticky green liquid went all over me,

It splashed on her clothes and wide hairy chin,

So hard to believe we fought on the floor,

The headlock she put on me in dampened my fire,

Now I’m in cuffs, and off to the court,

The judge is so stern, I hasten to smile,

He asks me my name but my memory is blank.

I think that my case is already tanked,

I sit in my seat then I’m told to stand up,

A bird in a hurry just breaks in to the court,

People are rushing to send the bird out,

I’m looking around not worried a bit,

Red faced psychiatrists shout in distress,

Can’t get a word in, the case is a mess,

I sing to the bird in my loudest voice,

The gavel is down, the case is dismissed.

Now I lie in my bed in this cold hearted place,

The hairy chinned nurse I see rushes right past,

I stretch out my arms, and raise them right up,

Life is now sweeter, they’re letting me out.

 

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