Trick of Light

dark glance from the table in the corner; she stares & you stumble half drunk from the second's hope or trick of light that trapped you in her eyes. but what's a muse if not a trick, a risk, some fleeting moment of unknowable fear? go on, sit down take the empty chair an arm's length or heart beat's distance away from her; make an ass of yourself, make something of yourself-anything. you look back & she's gone, what's a muse if not an illusion, man's desires made manifest in flawless impossibility, or flawed perfection blurred to new proportion?