APRIL #1: AN INVOCATION TO MY ACTUAL MUSE

Come visit, me, you. But just for today, be nice. Don’t come lugging that bag of newspaper clippings from high school days, those letters my mother wrote me when I was in college, the piles of reminders of the failures of my unsettled past. Stay out of my journals and photo albums. Don’t poke around in my closets or my dreams. The check book, the credit card slips, the Status Updates– none of your business.

Don’t slog into my study with that pinched expression on your face. Come skipping, for a change. Don’t fold your hands over your heart and sigh and blink back the tears. Snap your fingers, ring some bells. Don’t you have any clothes that aren’t gray? I’ve never heard you laugh. Do you even know how to smile?

Come today with a pot of fresh coffee and a plate of homemade buttered bread. Come accompanied by fiddle and flute. Come with a bouquet of orange tulips. Come with an empty basket like the one I carry to the market to fill with fresh green things.