Did you hear the one about the shrink
who let obsessive-compulsives clean his house
as if their illnesses were his?
They made good caretakers, stayed up all night
rattling doorknobs, testing locks,
domesticated poltergeists.
He started an amateur dramatics group
with the psychotics, who had a ball
in togas, till they burnt down the hall.
Chronic depressives are always apart,
so he’d check them through his telescope,
placed them in poses from classical art
and, of course, they’d hardly ever move,
added a certain style to the grounds.
He recorded Tourette patients’ sounds,
sold them to pop groups as backing tracks.
Whenever possible, he’d encourage love
between staff and patients. He had a knack
with manics, whom he sent out to shop
for all his parties, gave tarot cards
to schizoids so they could read their stars.
Perhaps he was flip with other people’s pain
but his patients loved him and his hope
that two or three madnesses might make one sane.