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Feeling great, feeling happy, feeling keen, 
feeling snappy, better than some years.
The other side of the table cannot stop crying, 
fully concentrating on his sadness.
This could have some other counselors feeling badly, 
but I sense crocodile tears.
 
Chuckling within, marveling at his talent. It is a fantastic day! 
I think as we sit, he and me.
I have tried all of my tricks, none of them have worked. 
He is sniffle-crying, gives a little twerk.
Silently jumping for joy, dancing and twirling away, 
on the other side of the table, is me.
 
My feelings are fine, they are smarter than I, 
almost on fire. I am not a bit blue.
He is giving me the eye now; a tiny glare is beginning. 
He is determined to ruin my day.
I sit here writing, waiting for his list of ten 
good things that he likes to do.
 
He wails and he whines, but I do not react. 
So he gives a deep sigh and picks up a pencil.
We write in silence, this drama queen and I. 
We write fast and hard, a race for us two.
He was probably goaded into listing some things by my intentional 
lack of interest. Totally trained in outwaiting children,  I plan to win.
 
I explain that he has to stop listening to the 
green monster inside his head.
The worst scenario entity that tells him 
he is a bad boy and should be dead.
I have spoken to his mother six times today. 
She tells me he likes to come up here to play.
 
We sit in silence, he and I. Him thinking of every 
worst scenario, and me feeling like a spy.
I talk and he listens, and there is a breakthrough. 
But the second he gets settled a tiny bit down,
He begins wailing and shrieking, to try and get out of math class, 
for he does not like to round, multiply, add or divide.
I can relate, because I detest math, I have an unnatural fear of it.
And so we dance, he and I, almost daily, and ......
Always during math class.
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