The Talking Doctor

by The Poet Darkling

He was nice
                           momma said
I had to talk to him
                           two days a week
                                 and she would buy me ice cream after.

I saw him Tuesdays & Thursdays at one o’clock.
I saw him two days a week for two years.

My mother told him I was full of the devil
                           “She’s full of the devil!” she’d say.
“She won’t talk to me. Won’t tell me nothin’…
                           maybe you can do something with her,”
                                                                                  she’d say.

He was nice.
He had black caterpillar eyebrows
                           He smelled like Lake Michigan
                                                                         he wore shiny brown shoes

My uncle worked at Florsheim
                           on Pulaski & Belmont
                                                                         he made shoes there
and he smelled
                           like raw leather and sour beer.

He drank his beer with salt.
His whiskers scratched my neck at night.

The doctor asked me about my uncle
                           he asked me and I told him,
“My uncle makes shoes. He probably made your shoes.”

One day, the doctor asked, “What else does your uncle do?”

                           and I said, “I can’t say.”
Then the doctor asked, “What can’t you say?”

                           and I said, “Can I go now?”
When we left,
                           I told momma what I couldn’t say,

                           “I don’t believe you,” and we took a bus home.

It dawned on me that night,
                            we never stopped for ice cream.

Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student