Left luggage

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I can’t understand it!
Normally, I’m so careful.
My packing is meticulous,
as if I have a topographical map of my
luggage compartments and contents.
I’m conscientious, diligent, methodical:
always checking – rechecking, checking again.
But, damn it!
She’s gone, I can’t believe…
I was so careless…

My muse is nowhere in sight.
Did I leave her at the airport?
Is she languishing under suitcases –
heavy – on a conveyor belt of
infinite recursion?
Perhaps she made it to the hotel,
and I dropped her under the table
after drinking half a bottle of sake?
Maybe, she fell in the bath, when I
let it fill too high while singing:
“Push the envelope” by The
Asteroids Galaxy Tour
?

I just don’t remember at all,
I hope a good night’s sleep will
refresh my memory.
But if, after such careless neglect on my part,
you should happen to find her,
tell her I’m sorry, and go on
write a poem for me.

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4 thoughts on “Left luggage

  1. I love it! Personally, I think our muses have some sort of holiday spot they take off to every now and then to get away from our demanding pens. 😉

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