Who Are You

Poems are sliding out of my eyes today Running down my cheeks and smearing my fey I tried to catch one, but it bit me on the petootsie. That will teach her, said a new muse name Mootsie. Mootsie! Where did you come from? I asked quickly. He bared his pointed teeth and gave me a grin so slickly. Where is Trixie? I asked, but there was no answer from him. I think she’s in Calabash, down by the new gym. Who are you? I asked this new loud interloper who stared. Who wants to know? She asked. We muses did not think you cared. My imagination is laughing like a hyena with a sandwich of buttercup. I had better stop dreaming and make my hazel eyes wake up.