i go through
interminable stretches
where creativity is
little more than
a teasing whore
tickling the edge
of my fevered brain

she shows me
just enough rope
to hang myself in
manic curiosity
to leave me
longing for enough
to finish the job

she has deigned
to shower her
glorious attentions
in all her splendid
disinterested dismay
so i can waste it all
toiling at my real job