PT, Session Ten By Alyssa Trivett

I lost recorded track of
the number that it was.
It is almost mid-month and I breathe
Tuesday morning air into my lungs
walking in.
It’s my weapon, to conquer this,
along with the micro prayers
that dance in my noggin.
It was hard for the receptionist
to remain straight laced/straight faced as he told me I owed an $0.01 balance
since yesterday.
I sit with a timer after the PT session.
Think good thoughts and kick my
Vans shoes like I’m waiting at stoplights since my vestibular system needs
ten minutes to reset,
he says think of it as a snow globe
just shaken up
that needs to settle down.
The comparison is brilliant.
He told me he had three kids and explained in detail their hectic schedules.
I called him softball dad.
I don’t know what his wife does for a living.
We didn’t get that far on
conversation highway as the timer rang
like a telephone on a Sunday afternoon
with company over.
I usually talk to God as the timer winds down.
He says hopefully he can discharge me soon.
I believe he is correct,
after this month and a half
of 8ams or 5pms
or 6pm appointments.

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she chirps down coffee while scrawling lines. Her work has appeared in many places, but most recently at Ex Ex Lit, and Duane's PoeTree