you always expect the movies-
a leather chair, wood-
cavernous offices on some highrise.
with a fireplace and EVERYTHING.
that guy, sitting so cool- stroking his
goatee, that quizzical look that says,
'i care' (you, all knowing it's bullshit
of course.)
nice pen. leather covered notebook.

somewhere before the caviar and decadance,
i noticed myself in a waiting room,
with issues of 'time' and 'sports illustrated'
scattered in equal amounts, nonchalantly
disregarded on the piles of newspapers.
and through a hallway i walk,
into this:

a guy who looks like
he was never my age.
a white room, cramped
bare; and a couple of
scantly padded office chairs.
the man, using a bic pen
and an office depot legal pad
talks to me about this, that;
and he's not even feigning interest.

yeah, the movies sure fuck with your head;
so the doc wont have to.

06/11/2003

Author's Note: a very preliminary draft

Posted on 06/12/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams