Awhile back T asked me what I would do if the two of us were in the painting that was hanging on the wall in the room. He asked what would happen if he walked away fro me in the painting. The painting is of a picnic table in a park. I told him I would get really angry and when he came back I would push him into the table. Then he asked me what images were coming to mind and I said I was having violent images of everything on the table breaking and his head injured.

So yesterday we were analyzing one of my poems in which the picnic table-painting experience was incorporated into one of the stanzas. The exact line is "I would shove you into the picnic table, glass pitcher first."

When he re-read that part out loud, I said, "That's pretty violent-- sorry about that."

And he goes, "Violent? Come on, you've said worse to me. What about when we were actually talking about it in session? Didn't you tell me half of my head was missing? I would say this is loving. At least I'm not decapitated this time."

And I said, "Yeah. You tend to bring out the affectionate side of me."