Wait,

dearest darling,

while I tell you

(in language that you won’t hear

because I know you’re thinking of your secretary’s cleavage)

just how my day went.

Yes,

thank you,

the therapist was helpful,

so helpful.

We discussed life:

I said that it was all a huge mistake,

and she agreed,

but politely suggested

that I take "a more positive outlook on things."

We discussed ambition:

I said that ever since I married you

the wedding band has been squeezing out my innards

inch by inch, and she smiled sympathetically

and suggested

that perhaps I wasn’t trying hard enough.

We discussed love:

I said that wherever it was,

it wasn’t in our marriage,

so she suggested that I buy a new wardrobe

in order to be happier.

(Perhaps I will one day.)

We discussed anger:

She said that it was a useful emotion

in the right place at the right time

but never in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She also said

that I should never give in

to the temptation to scream and flail

and wave my arms about, or the anger

would slowly creep down the spinal column

and pool around the feet.

She was right, you know.

You should never flail – much too undignified.

So please don’t be surprised

when I slit your darling throat,

my love.