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We Are Not Amused

my muse threw the food i made for breakfast across the table no burnt toast once i confused my muse with a guitar trying to strum her deconstructionalism all over again as she turned into a Pete Townshend and said, "Who?" smashing a 1978 Martin dreadnought once when i refused but she already knew for shes my muse wrote a poem about her penguin feet she said, "You leech. That was a secret between you and me." but i told her, "i tell all that you tell me because after all you, you are my muse."

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Richard Lamoureux

Date: 9/28/2019 8:38:00 PM

My wife spilled boiling water on her foot as a child. She has a slightly webbed toe. She would be mortified that I am sharing this tidbit.

Jeff Connelly
Date: 9/29/2019 11:22:00 AM

If I would happen to ever meet your wife Richard, I wouldn't tell.

P.S. Awtry

Date: 9/27/2019 12:06:00 PM

I too wrote of my muse this morning. This is splendid. I love the image of your muse smashing a guitar.

Jeff Connelly
Date: 9/27/2019 12:36:00 PM

Thank you again Awtry. Maureen seems to be the only one that knows my Muse (mi Musa) is a real person. Most of my poetry is true to life even in its absurdity, other then any of my whimsies. But I do have a 1978 Martin, and mi Musa says she has penguin feet; all I need to do is fill in the gaps. Thanks Awtry.