Later that very same night, our hero had a seance to contact his dear-departed muse…
You are correct sir,
Another train another chain
Of thoughts like so many blocks.
To the brink
Of another brick wall
Or again a road to nowhere.
The air in here is getting thick
With tangents sign and co-sign
Our names across the sky!
Oh why do I try to fly
When I’m too fat I just fall flat
I was never very good singing scat.
And nevermore will I trod the floor
To knock knock on my muse’s door
And wonder if she will enlighten me
As I type a’tick-a-clickety-snick
And roam at home
Write a pome
While I wait for the brain to reign again.
This is about a fairly typical episode in my head when it comes to women.
I swear to you, I am surprised I ever managed to get laid, let alone had a woman actually want to be with me. If I ever had “mojo,” as Austin Powers once said, it’s just gone. Even if a woman were actually interested in me, there is nothing I could ever do about it. I don’t know anymore where to begin.
But that has not stopped me from thinking, and wishing. This is about that sad state of affairs that is me right now.
I imagine us entangled, enraptured,
Love like the air around us,
Perfect, obvious, electric.
You lean in for the kiss
You’d take by force if I didn’t give it,
Pulling me into you.
And then the mist clears.
I see the comedy
Of my errors.
The only universe where that embrace
Makes any sense
Is the one in my head.
There’s only one buffoon here,
And he’ll remain silent
About his affections
Lest the truth come out
And blast clean any leftover dignity.
You’re safe from my embrace.