(a)musing

thinking about not writing really

(a)musing

Lazy muse I cast you out
like ghosts and goblins,
and Uncle Ned and Cousin Red,
who lounge about
and drink all my Diet Coke,
without an offer to run to the store
or replace the beer in the ice box.
Get your feet off the table
you lazy sot.

Lazy muse I cast you out
like an exorcism and reawakening
in a tent suspiciously
like the circus,
complete with bad music
and a loud preacher, hand
on my head scaring anything
like individualism
to its knees.
"Yay though I walk"
Please God I just
want to write.

Lazy muse I cast you out,
in the name of Poe,
Shakespeare, Rita Mae,
Suzy Hinton, and sagging
shelves full of the volumes
I collect and peruse,
cruise for inspiration,
when Ned and Red
aren't putting muddy boots
on coffee tables and
filling the house with
cigar smoke and bad breath fog.