Runaway Muse
To A. Akhmatova
By Tatiana Pahlen

Oh loneliness, my sister-muse,
dressed up for an occasion,
insisting an offer
I could not refuse
to seek outdoor pleasure;
I've been a recluse much too long
craving for danger.

Turning a page,
she hid my pen,
smudged layers of lipstick;
pulled from the fridge
a bottle of Scotch
and chased it with beer,
burping veggies.

"Where shall we go?"
she loosened her hair,
stumbling on Guccis' stilettos.
"Let's go out,
and have fun,
dancing till we lose our lettuce."

I followed her lead
and drank all night,
chatted with enchanting strangers,
but soon grew tired and tightlipped —
My muse took off
with two rangers.

September 15, 2005

© 2005 Tatianyc. All Rights Reserved.