Histrionic Personality Disorder 2
I'd read of the plight of poor Sandusky. What rot!
Puritanism strikes again: where will it end?
I'd even googled the disorder. Took my sun-glasses off and read:
Defense today depending less on motive than diagnosis;
But I seemed to have all the symptoms: naivete, gullibility, low frust-
ration, strong dependency. The whole ball of wax.
After reading about it I did, anyway. And these were just the good things.
But how could I know for sure? Don't most have these traits? Somewise?
As for the causes, these were foregone:
turbulent both oral AND genital phases, in my case.
So the search for certainty'd brought me to this office.
As the expert, she was really supposed to know, no?
All I wanted was certainty. 'And, if it doesn't exist...? ',
I asked the translater, still staring at the floor
paved with lovely green travertine that felt good underfoot.
In reply, she just shrugged: these people are good at body language.
'Dunque, non'. That much I understood. She rose,
looked out the window, remarked, I think, about the good weather.
As she studied the sky I was impressed by her expertise.
'Would you like to have lunch? ' she asked, turning, in perfect English.
Flattered and intrigued, I stammered 'si',
wondering just how many euros it would cost me.
'What are you hearing at the opera? ', she asked.
'Ernani', I answered, ingenuously. 'Ah, an early one!
'You'll love it, I saw it, its wonderful', she said.
Together we took the elevator down, walked through an immense door,
and out into the broad, Italian sunshine.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
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