The Therapeutic Kind Poem by James McLain

as i wander, i stop just for a moment, and gaze
into the faces around me.
i ask a name, i ask if your happy, i ask why your
sad, you just ignore me, i am sad.
i then notice, you dont even know that I'm here, is
it on purpose, i say some thing flip, your milk jug
is exposed, you go on talking to your friends.
i dont think that I'm dead, or a goats, i poke you
good, real good, you still dont notice I'm here.
i can only look at this one way, positively, if you wont
notice me, if you chose to ignore me, it will only make
it flirt, ten times harder.
if you do want to play, just remember your parts, or i
will have to take them in hand.
i love it, when you know your parts, like the back of
your hand, as they swell, you blush, i do to.
i have a hard time in therapy, you do to, dont you?