the muse is soaring
the furnace is humming a January tune.
I’m happy as a clam
and why not? The words are there,
the registers are blowing warm air,
the world is mine.
Oh rue the bliss of perfection.
The gems and pearls of inspiration
fade first from the screen
and then from the mind. Something
about, “You’ve lost connection.”
Defensive, I cry,
It is not I who wandered
aimlessly and without warning.
I turn to the telephone
to report this dire situation.
Alas, it greets me
silently, not even a hum
from this million dollar connection,
a truth proved
by the dent in my checkbook,
the price for watching my own TV.
here I sit incommunicado,
left alone by a muse that has flown.
Bless my grocery store cell phone,
It has a mind of its own plus the good sense
to be powered by sprint.
As for the service that has exed out the ‘in’
of infinity I reached them at three in the a.m.
They said they’d be here as soon as they can.
I sit by the door with hope in my heart
though they really didn’t say when. Hey You,
who have exed out the ‘in’, I am waiting.