Asymptote
I wrestle off my ski coat, fleece-lined sweatshirt, and down-filled vest.
The shape of my body finally makes an appearance.
Move the pillows, sit down, and pull my feet underneath me.
“We’re like Russian nesting dolls this time of year, aren’t we?”
It’s the same every time I’m here.
He lights a tea candle,
I settle myself and take a drink of water
out of my Klean Kanteen.
Pause. Deep breath.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good,” he says, smiles at me,
but does not return the question.
Just waits.
Therapy. Continue reading →
Ruby Pipes 