Sigmund Freud, Where Are You Now?
My father always gave me love.
He told me I was pretty.
He told me I deserved the best
That only he could give me.
My father always taught me things.
He taught me to play chess.
He taught me why the world was bad
And how to be depressed.
My father always carried me.
He kept me to himself,
Never to be beaten bruised,
Never to be given help.
Sigmund Freud, where are you now?
I’m really in a bind!
Tell me how to fix it, please,
Or tell me that I’m fine.
Days before, I’d met a man
Who wore my father’s glasses.
His eyes were brown and desolate.
(I kissed him in a panic.)
He told me I was pretty
But too young for this to last.
Unmoved, I pressed against his ear
And said,
“Let’s fix the past.”
Sigmund Freud, where are you now?
I’m running out of time!
Tell me how to fix it, please,
Or tell me that I’m fine.
My father often rescued me.
The night I ran away,
He came to straighten out my mind
And found me hard to sway.
My father found us shelter
Where we slept on a cold floor
I said, “I’ve met another man,”
And felt him think,
“You dirty whore.”