The Monday Poem: ‘The Big Book of Therapy’ by Bob Hicok

If you think of humans as rare
as snowflakes, your world
is constantly melting.

If you think of humans as essential
to keeping dogs happy,
someone will always want
to buy you a beer.

About This Poem

“I was vacuuming when I realized I don’t like vacuuming. So I stopped and wrote this poem. It’s a protest poem against vacuuming.”
—Bob Hicok
Hicok is the recipient of fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment of the Arts, and his poetry has been awarded three Pushcart Prizes and selected for inclusion in five volumes of Best American Poetry. He currently teaches at Purdue University.