“Therapy Dance”

Agitated Pessimism, wearing a pink sweater, a push-up bra, and one hoop earring leans against the wall, listening, to Frustrated Empathy chittering on about Apprehensive Insecure who is clinging to her completely empty oversized purse. Irritable Self-loathing and Restless Dissatisfaction critique the music that Nurse has selected – it’s maple syrupy and the theme seems to be: Come Back, Baby, I Need You. And there are chemicals in play. There are darkened memories parked on the shoulders of detoured highways like abandoned cars — the mothers drinking alone, the fathers in armor, the touching, trusted uncles. There are insects and policemen and empty houses – all written on back pages of wind-blown papers. Unresolved Involvement watches Impatient Non-fulfillment overflowing a paper cup at the punch bowl. Unfocused Rebellion has put in his pockets all of the plastic forks, while Terminally Facetious asks Arrestingly Disgruntled to dance. She declines, and a fleeting solstice of satisfaction crosses the face of Seminally Disinterested. There are walls, pale green, and door locks with keys at the bottom of muddy rivers. There is breathing of air already breathed, other air silently leaking out of dime store balloons. There is the sound of traffic rising between songs and the low slant of afternoon sun through the windows making chicken wire patterns on the floor. Lonely Fastidious, in poofy sleeves unpoofing little by little, blinks her eyes in time with the big round clock that says Watch Me, Watch Me, Watch Me, and she thinks: Don’t Come Back, Baby because you won’t find me here, not here, because I am here by mistake and I’m going to gone before you even miss me and that crazy shit was not really about anything, so I’m strictly on good behavior and everyone likes me and they are going to be sorry when I walk out those clacking metal doors into the bright yellow sunshine of my actual life. And she begins to feel really, somehow, a little better, quite a lot better in fact, and there is a small sort of quiet hopefulness and even some peacefulness moving around inside of her, but Wreckless Belligerent has flipped over the refreshment table and they are taking everyone back to their rooms.

About Lee Kisling

Lee Kisling is a recent graduate of Hamline University in St Paul, Minnesota. In December 2013, his poetry chapbook \"The Lemon Bars of Parnassus\" was published by Parallel Press in Madison, Wisconsin. He lives in snowy Hudson, Wisconsin.

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