Where have they gone?
I know you're out there,
Pesky boogers.
Is that you dodging into
That back alley of my mind?
What, now? Am I to follow
Some graham cracker trail?
What is this?
Sticky, goopy streets--
I have seen your shadow
Dart ahead, and my feet
Long to follow but are stuck.
Your design, I suppose.
Sweet.
I know where I am,
Stranded with no original thought
On a side street of little consequence.
You are long gone, your shadow
Having danced off eons ago.
Are you just going to leave me here?
Seriously?
I chased you out here,
As the sun was setting,
In the hope that you would
LET ME CATCH YOU
For once...
But, no,
Heaven Forbid my Muses
Would slow down, even slightly,
To let me get a glimpse of
Whatever it is I need to fuel my fiction.
I so long to write.
Write, write, write I would,
But without you, all of you,
It's a futile effort, indeed.
(Blank pages basket tossed.)
Yes, indeedy.
