A prim, straight-looking woman
in the therapist’s waiting room,
middle-aged in a burgundy v-neck
and gray slacks. Sensible shoes,
gold watch, cropped brown hair
that is not quite a style.
She has unhappy eyes and looks tired.
I feel tired too, poor night’s sleep,
paint fumes.
In fact I’m down right dull-witted,
watching the curling edge
of the print on the wall,
waiting to be primed,
like a pump.