I went for a little walk
stopped to view a red cone-head
when a crazed poet
asked if I write anything.
I replied, of course
got down off my imaginary horse
spit in the wind and grinned
while taking in the beauty
of him.
As the drama unfolded
I recited Longfellow in Spanish
just so he would understand
how difficult it is to write
without a pen.
I finally stopped rambling
just long enough to explain
it takes years of pain
to write anything.

burn baby burn