Trixie Is Thrilled With Our Stuff

Trixie, who loves orange, is today clog-dancing. Her ready exhibitions are becoming so frequent many poets would be embarrassed My poems are super confident, so I go along with my enthusisatic minion. Trixie is thrilled with our stuff. All prissy delightful, not wanting to edit anything. Please let us not use "I and me, again," I beg her. So overdone I tell her. She laughs and stomps on my finger that was heading for the delete button. Our top five themes are dragons, pirates, orange, Trixie and me. A bit boring, I tell her. Let's try some new material. Trixie gets angry and gets out her battle axes. She leaves my dendrite alley in despicable shape, hanging in pieces. She saturates the walls of my imagination with Sexy, sassy, orange, and yellow. Sexy! Come on! I yell. She howls happiness. I watch in fascination as she grabs the pen and does her damage. The bossiest orangest most polka dotted craziest poetic muse ever. I count on her energetic bossy attitude almost daily.