the substitute shrink

as if it was so easy to

trade & throw around the

vulnerability of a

human being who’s tripped,

fallen

crashing

down

with

face

to

cement,

as if the life of the doctor

mattered more,

as if giving advice

(however relevant or

helpful)

warranted a monetary

reward,

as if there was to be no

attachment

allowed,

because all along the doc was

planning his/her escape

if this one was

“unfixable”---

like a scab crossing a picket

line, like a pharmaceutical

company mad scientist

promising healing to

a starving diseased person

being used by Big Pharm as

a guinea pig for whatever

potions they’ve most

recently concocted---

rotten to the

core &

out for

blood (coulda’ been

anything else but they

chose this path &

leave the kitchen when

it gets too hot

for another to come &

try to cook

all

over

again).