Trixie is Snickering
I decided to stop writing poems in long hand
Trixie my muse kept running away with my pen
I knew it was her, because the thoughts were assertive
She is the only one here more determined than me
She laughed at my efforts and began interfering with my typing
I would think I had typed one thing, but had typed another
I knew it was her; she thinks she is the leader of the band
It’s not like she argues with me in a civilized manner
It is as if she grabs the ideas out of my brain and tosses them
Replacing them with her own missives, songs and poems
Some days I do not recognize anything I have written
Because they were not written by me. Trixie is snickering.
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