Five pages
to freedom
the traveler
tired
and
worn
carries on
to
the
end
a notebook lost
left behind
at the cafe
carefully turned in
like an infant
at the firestation
safe harbor
no questions
(or peeking)
asked
Forced observations
jotted down
with a borrowed bic pen
whet the muze's
thighs
with
word
longing
it is too busy to be social
and I have tipped too little
to linger
ah Muze
you are such a loose tramp
when the wine
flows
I intended to fast
but the addict
is in full swing
as my artist
is ignored
on the corner
of the kitchen table.
I forget
how long the traveller
has been my
constant companion
surviving
the floods
of whoknowswhat
and
many
a drinking
scribble.
ever vital
giving birth
to poem
and
novel notions
this
traveler
tickles
the
Muze's
fancy
just
fine.
Makes me think of Dexter's "dark passenger".
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