Fifty Minute Hour

Fifty Minute Hour

I wanted to know as I opened the door,
Am I not your most interesting patient?
The most intelligent, sensitive, delightfully screwed-up
person to ever lie across your couch?

Are you just a little bit envious when I tell you
about the biggest trout I ever caught in the
Colorado mountains.

The reason I ask is that scrawny specimen
of a stuffed rainbow trout hanging on your office wall.

And the way you keep asking me about flies
I used – the size and color and “How remarkable:
you tied them yourself?”

Or is this just one of those tricks shrinks use
to get someone to open up?
If it is, I don’t think it’s working.
I’m not opening up. Am I?

Every time I come here we seem to talk
about fly fishing, all the places I’ve been:
Alaska, Montana, Colorado, California, Maine.

And I see you taking notes.
Just what are you writing down?

It feels odd at the end of the hour,
the check I write and that cocky look in your eye
as you say, “See you next week, same time.”

Poem by Alan Harawitz Illustration by El Pescador