dialing down rage

in the shrink’s waiting room, in a big comfy chair, 
white noise machine cranked up full blast with 
new age flutes floating out of Bose speakers 
strategically placed to get wired up guys like
 
me calmed down, chilled out before entering 
the sacred temple of mental and spiritual 
restoration. they need me a bit numb before
beginning the session, actually eased off the 

ledge of discontent upon which I’m generally 
perched. And I gotta say, the waiting room
ambience generally does the trick

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Untitled #3

Simon Perchik is an attorney whose poems have appeared in Partisan Review, The Nation, Poetry, Osiris, The New Yorker and elsewhere. His most recent collection is Almost Rain, published by River Otter Press (2013). Before this door had a chance your eyes crushed it though the thud infected only one lid, staggers across as if its […]

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