Jonathan Coachman

The Couch

you hadn't seen your father in such a long time
he died in the arms of his lover how dare he
your mother never left the house
she never married anyone else you took it upon yourself to console her
you reminded her so much of your father
so you were banished and you wonder why you're so hypersensitive
and why you can't trust anyone but us
but then how can I begin to forgive her so many years under bridges with dirty water
she was foolish and selfish and cowardly if you ask me
I don't know where to begin in all of my 50 odd years
I have been silently suffering and adapting perpetuating and enduring
who are you younger generation to tell me that I have unresolved problems
not many examples of fruits of this type of excruciating labour
how can you just throw words around like grieve and heal and mourn
I feel fine we may not have been born as awake as you were
it was much harder in those days we had paper routes uphill both ways
we went from school to a job to a wife to instant parenthood
I walked into his office I felt so self-conscious on the couch
he was sitting down across from me he was writing down his hypothesis I don't know
i've got a loving supportive wife who doesn't know how involved she should get
you say his interjecting was him just calling me on my shit?
just the other day my sweet daughter I was driving past 203 I walked up the stairs in my mind's eye
I remember how they would creak loudly
she was only responsive with a drink he was only responsive by photo
I was only trying to be the best big brother I could
i've walked sometimes confused sometimes ready to crack open wide
sometimes indignant sometimes raw
can you imagine I pay him 75 dollars an hour sometimes
it feels like highway robbery
and sometimes it's peanuts
I wish it could last a couple more hours
so here we both are battling similar demons (not coincidentally)
you see n getting beyond knowing it solely intellectually you're not relinquishing your majestry
you are wise you are warm you are courageous you are big