I met the muse in a laundromat
Washing her robes
(even a muse needs clean clothes)
She was high and needed
A place to land
I lent a hand
She was fabulous in bed
And, upon returning to earth
Exceedingly intelligent,
And extraordinarily beautiful.
She promised me inspiration
In exchange for
Passionate perspiration.
I was confident I had
The better end of that deal.
After seven months of sex
And very little writing I
Wasn’t so sure.
Fucking muse.