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Lori Brock works in the Very Special Arts program. Knowing firsthand the frustrations that disabled artists confront, she has helped turn the Art Access gallery on Pierpont Avenue into a gathering place - and a showplace - for Utah's challenged painters, poets, playwrights and photographers.

Along the way she's produced a good deal of memorable work herself. When she showed me this poem not long ago - a poem about longing for the human touch - I asked if I could run it here. She kindly agreed:COUNSELORS GALORE!Psychoanalyst, tell me why I do as I do.

Delve into my dreams, into my inner-most being

but never forget your scientific,


Cut me open with your sterile, analytic knife

but oh, don't touch.

My blood might stain.Behavior modifier,

study my patterns of behavior

and reduce all I do to conditioned reflexes.

Schedule my rewards and see how smoothly I shape into

what you want me to be.

I'm not hard to reinforce.

An approving smile will do.

I'm so hungry for smiles.Social worker, counselor of all things,

make your phone calls

while I fill out the forms for more food.

Process your papers and try your client-centered approach.

But when I get the food, will you break bread with me?Teacher, academic advisor,

I need only three credits of this

and twelve more of that.

What's my major?

What do I want to do with my life?

You joked, "After graduation, we'll celebrate with a beer!"

I thought you meant it.