the substitute shrink

as if it was so easy to
trade & throw around the
vulnerability of a
human being who’s tripped,
fallen
crashing
down
with
face
to
cement,
as if the life of the doctor
mattered more,
as if giving advice
(however relevant or
helpful)
warranted a monetary
reward,
as if there was to be no
attachment
allowed,
because all along the doc was
planning his/her escape
if this one was
“unfixable”---
like a scab crossing a picket
line, like a pharmaceutical
company mad scientist
promising healing to
a starving diseased person
being used by Big Pharm as
a guinea pig for whatever
potions they’ve most
recently concocted---
rotten to the
core &
out for
blood (coulda’ been
anything else but they
chose this path &
leave the kitchen when
it gets too hot
for another to come &
try to cook
all
over
again).