My Psychologist Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Polished floor of vague reflections
We graze like empirical centuries
Abacus of emotion
Colleting Japanese prints
Collecting bold brazen colors
Becoming a person
I see your wearing Zeus
Flying high with Athena
I am with Hamlet's doubts this day
Some days the loneliness wins
Some days leave me to vulnerable
Starch in place of spine
Smart and defined
Dressed as a poet artist
Your arms are only dreams
Insecure but fortified
Survivors and purveyors
Statistics and impressions
Abstractions in the mirror
Validated amidst the frozen tundra
My psychologist says I am doing fine