Tuesday at three in a therapist’s suite Bad coffee, old magazines, one empty seat Your therapist runs late, and mine does too So every week I end up next to you First time, a nod Next time, your name Third week, you saved me a chair by the wall You don’t oversell, you don’t improvise I’m used to charming men with flexible lies I can fix him I can fix her Maybe that’s what people do When they find a little damage That looks familiar coming through In Eloise’s waiting room Under fluorescent afternoon Your name gets called, then so does mine We steal one more minute every time There’s a man who chews like he’s paid by the bite A woman who puts every phone call on speaker I have thoughts about both that I probably shouldn’t share So I count ceiling tiles and stay in my chair Then you show up with your coffee and coat Ask if I mean every strange thing I quote I say, “Mostly. I’m not good at disguise.” You laugh like honesty came as a surprise I can fix him I can fix her Maybe that’s what people say When they see somebody dented And decide that they should stay In Eloise’s waiting room Under fluorescent afternoon Your name gets called, then so does mine We steal one more minute every time I came here ’cause I never trust a word I hear the promise, then I wait to get hurt I came here ’cause when somebody gets under my skin I picture all the ways that I could do them in But when you say you’ll call, you call And when I picture everyone else— I never picture you That sounds almost normal I’m working on it I can fix him I can fix her Funny how we got that wrong Maybe love is not repair work Maybe it’s just staying long enough In Eloise’s waiting room Under fluorescent afternoon They call our names, we let them wait Just one more minute by the magazines You’re the only person I don’t want to kill That is disturbingly reassuring. Maybe we’re getting better.
