Victory at Iwo Jima

I met a cognitive behavioral
psychologist in a tunnel.
I recognized the snapping fingers
and smart whistle,
the dry socket
where emotion had been.
“What’s your hurry?” he sneered.
“Childhood,” I replied. “Infancy.”
“Would you like to earn some money?”
“How?” I asked.
“I want to buy your personality,”
“What would you use it for?”
“Fill dirt,” he said, “It works great.”
“Why don’t you use the gravel in your heart,” I said.
“That’s what I made the hole with.”