Confessions of a Psychiatrist

a poem by Scott Zentner, USA

Every day the same-
Kiss the wife and kids goodbye,
wish them a good day,
and then off to hustle.

No short skirt nor cheap perfume-
A starched white coat
and an air of omniscience,
the seductive tools of this trade.

"New drug" salesmen, like the "used car" ones,
Medicaid pawns and wanna-bees,
solicit on this southside corner.
Same song on the other side of the tracks.

Drudgery interrupted, not often enough,
by the Real McCoy-
Mental illness in its purest form-
A reward that begs another day.

Better to keep quiet and do the deed,
defenses intact,
lest others may think
thou protest too much.

And yet the truth remains-
'Tis not only the oldest,
but also the grandest
of professions.

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