Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

The Listening Cure

Robby strains to hear the lady seated down the bar leaning toward her best friend forever; only fifty bucks, she whispers. That’s what it cost her per hour for a forty-five minute psychotherapy session. Hearing that really gets him thinking, no way, mine were so much more. He had to learn how to properly lace ironed-flat shoelaces through each and every eyelet; wrap by crisscross wrap finessing both bows time after time until the exposed ends were perfect. That was a two session $300 ordeal, paid at the time of appointment as is customary always remembering to feel grateful for his copays and insurance. Next came the explanations of why sound holes in guitars are round, plus frets and strings, bridges to cross, bodies, necks, and nuts, once a week for a month, six bills but in week four, Robby got to listen to Doctor play. Finally, it was time to address the most turgid of issues, re stress, enabling, and of course women. That took almost a half a year but Doc almost always brought out his guitar. Make a choice for everything he would say, from controlling your loose ends to understanding the meaning of the holes in your life and always make time to sing a song. Suddenly, Robby really wants to lean toward that lady’s best friend and whisper into her other ear, after I got cured, my last session was free.


R JayR Jay Slais has edited himself almost daily. He has sold some art, misplaced true love, been struck by lightning, ran the circumference of the earth, been trapped beneath winter lake ice, and he fell in love with poetry and himself on the same day in 2002. R Jay lives in Washington, Michigan with his wife Susy.


Categories: Poetry

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