(an entirely different different example of "The Case of September 16"
My psychiatrist was reassuringly normal -
Neither Woody Allen nor Doktor Freud -
More like my non-existent elder brother
Explaining things. Sometimes in the waiting room,
I'd see another patient, and then another: they looked so normal
Like busy people in the supermarket
Pushing their trolleys around with tinned food, plastic wrapped paper,
Frozen fruit -
Paying for it all by credit card
At the check-out, where the cashier passes barcodes
Across a scanner. Checking signatures,
She smiles at each one of them, guessing from their shopping items
Which one of them believes she has a soul.
(i can't remember, but i think i wrote this...if i did, it was definitely when i was working at mc donalds in high school. or, worse yet, maybe i copied it from Sassy magazine - remember that one? the "pre" Bust magazine? i don't read Bust, but if i kept up with the whole girl reading thing, i guess i would. there's probably as many answers there as are in some of the dead theory guys i keep myself up late reading, my eyes stroking the words of the decaying minds as they channel from the cold ground the memory of their own nostalgia for a young body like mine...)