Some discussions don’t end well.
Those centered around my social acceptance,
Have a great deal to do
With a small, skinny five year old.
At least that’s what the Psychiatrist says.
He is much taller than I dreamed of being
At the time I played college basketball,
Before starting my NBA career.
Why the hell do I want to spend time,
Examining the miserable life
Of that self- absorbed child?
It was not much fun the first time.
Two hundred bucks an hour,
If I can be reconciled to fifty minute hours,
In the hope of putting that five year old
Snot -nosed kid at ease.
I’ve apparently avoided the brat for a lifetime
But he now pounds on my gut.
I smile at Dr. Frank and offer half truths. He wasn’t there.
Let him visit the kid!
Maybe time is an encapsulated sphere?
Life never moves without the weight
Of decades and half- buried tragedies never realized……
And always unfolding.
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