Published on: 10/14/2011
He's In It

You won't believe this, but I have a life --
the problem is, he's in it. Luckily
the office is still safe. And I can sleep
wedged in the love-seat opposite my desk.
Advantages? The bathroom privilege:
6 stalls at my command, with janitors;
the height of luxury. And when I shower
The rec hall's right nearby, with free shampoo
locked in a plastic shelf with body soap
to make it stay there: all you do is squirt.
And they provide the towels. Wardrobe, though...

Well, that's a problem. See, it's in my house --
but so is he. Which means I have to sneak.
I watch him go for mail, then scurry in
to grab some underclothes and duck back out.
Right now it's in the bookbags hanging from
my office coat-rack. And the dry-cleaners
gave me a bag to hold my other suit.
So it's convenient, mostly. People say
I almost live here. I just laugh, and nod:
they don't believe me. But they might, some day.
And I feel cramped. So - make him go away?

Published on: 10/14/2011
Bashful Muse

You wouldn't think I'd have a bashful muse,
but so it is. In fact, they're all like that.
I guess I should have known, considering
they spend their whole lives lurking - hanging out
in dreams and whispers: never on their own,
and never in the credits. Quite unfair.

They like it that way, though: more privacy.
You ever notice that I don't name mine?
I had to promise. Poor Urania
was terribly besieged by wannabes
once Milton outed her: you never saw
a muse so pissed. And what was the result?
He had to write his Paradise Regained
without her - and it shows. So I keep mum.

But since it weighed on me, we made this deal:
anonymous citation. He's my ghost.
Okay not quite, because he two-times me,
and then I write alone. But when I'm good
it's him you're hearing. Think co-authorship,
except he's talented. And please don't say
he's "only a convention." Sure he is.
But what has that to do with being real?