Her Diagnosis


your brain is just wrong,   she tells me.     people
don’t think the way you do.   nobody.   you
should get help with that.   maybe.   still   . . .   it does
amuse sometimes the strange twists,   ironic
divergences and impossible tangents   —
have you ever once thought in a straight line?
how can you accomplish anything at all
with that symphony of worry you call
inner dialogue?     you know what they call
that?     neurosis.     you’ve got the full-hand trump!
maybe hypnosis would help;   have you tried
that?     are you depressed?     you don’t seem too glum;
it’s sometimes hard to tell,   you know,   mental
illness tends to mask itself and fool us.

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