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.
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