I Thought One Muse Was Bad
I thought one muse was bad, but now there are two.
Trixie brought her cousin Ruby home to belittle me.
They have commandeered the typewriter.
I am not allowed to interject a thought.
It is all about them; they are preteens no doubt.
If I had make up, I would be hiding it.
I am sure they have put my toothbrush into the toilet.
More than once.
Can I just? I start to suggest.
Trixie brings the roll of black duct tape.
They begin winding it around my head.
It wasn’t enough that they have bound my hands?
Now I have to have my eyes covered.
You had better not be using my account! I think.
I hear them tittering, so I know they are.
What is next? The Ouija board?
How will they do that without my hands?
I snicker a bit.
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