Runaway
Muse
To A. Akhmatova
By Tatiana Pahlen
Oh loneliness, my sister-muse,
coifed for an occasion,
staging an offer
fun to fuse
to call for an adventure;
I was a recluse much too long
itching for danger.
Turning a page,
she hid my pen,
smudged layers of lipstick;
pulled from the fridge
a bottle of Scotch
and chased with beer,
burping veggies.
"Where shall we start?"
she loosened her hair,
stumbling on Guccis' stilettos.
"Let's go out,
like old times,
dancing till we lose our lettuce."
I followed her lead
and drank all night,
chatted with enchanting strangers,
but soon grew edgy and tightlipped;
My muse took off
with two bouncers!
September 15, 2005
© 2005 Tatianyc.
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