I ask my muse to let me loose.
She says, ‘Let you loose on what?’
She says she’s sad that I confuse
What is with what is not.
I recognize she’s drawing me
Into another conversation.
That isn’t where I want to be.
What I want is cessation
Of all the memes she pelts me with
Especially deep in the night.
She says she’ll give me a wondrous myth;
All I must do is write.
I tell her I’m intolerably tired,
That her inspirations give me fits.
She says, ‘I feel I’m being fired!’
And just like that she quits.