Free To Write Whatever I Want Today
My muse is on vacation, hoping I won’t write anything until her return.
She is persnickety and prissy, and considers my stuff junky, trite even.
I look at the page with a happy leap of pure thrill in my heart.
I can do anything I want, and Trixie will have no say in it.
Yes, her name is Trixie;
she named herself, impressing her name in my head.
I tried to name her Pixie, Dixie and Lexie at first,
but she would not have it.
I picture her as Tinkerbell
except with black hair, red lips, dressed in pink.
Just a second that’s the phone.
“Hello?”
“My hair is auburn, stupid.”
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