The Psychologist Poem by Kewayne Wadley

We'd sit and we talk for hours.
Me and this glass.
We'd wait on our liquid advisor,
Whom gives us bits and pieces of advice.
Though late, she's always on time.
Probably stuck in traffic.
Finishing up another appointment across town.
We've become the best of friends.
Me, her, and this glass.
Though not professional. we'd schedule our off the clock meetings.
Discussing how shitty our jobs really are.
The stress obtained sitting behind a desk.
A constant demand for things that aren't worth our time.
While on the other hand.
This glass just sits and stares.
stagnant. Watching life go on while it helps everyone sort their problems.
Kind of a shit deal. Me and this glass.
She, our liquid advisor.
Brings a smile to both of our faces.
Always delighted to see her come, as well as see her go.
The way she moves and dances about. Exploring the deepest cresses of our minds.
Emptying herself, at the expense of our Tom-Foolery.
Soon drunk off her taste.
Intoxicated by the way she makes us forget about our problems.
Though short lived, it's always good to see the both of them