My chiropractor wears a pyramidal hat,
an airy thing of welded rods that
focus energy from God knows where
to some point deep inside his skull.
But when he cracks my neck, he does it well.

The family therapist
employed to help us heal
is screwing Linda on the side
or from behind, it’s hard to tell.
He complains of never being paid,
then takes it out in trade.

The shaman offers sage advice:
“burn sage, smells nice.”
My oncologist smokes Camels
and the Camels smoke him back.