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phyllis was a physicist,
a fairly good ventriloquist,
a free-lance photographer
but don’t call her a feminist.
some challenges she’d nail
on the very first try,
but she felt like a failure
for she was afraid to fly.
our friend the ace in physics
found herself in a great fix:
had to book a flight from philly
to her family out in phoenix.
f-f-fear of flying made her
positively petrified
but she could brave math equations;
she could face her fear and fly.
fortunately our feisty physicist
found a fancy, pricey therapist
felix p. fellini
neo-freudian psychologist
(the p stands for phredrick)
he said phyllis, first and foremost
we must identify
whether your father or your mother
made you so afraid to fly.
our physicist got physical
confronting her fears
pounding on pillows
chastising empty chairs
after four thousand dollars
and forty thousand tears,
although she’s still afraid to fly,
at least now she can tell you why.
(maybe she doesn’t fully understand... but she’s so close)
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