Elusive, shining spark that flits
in and out of my senses, do you
giggle as you play havoc with my
creative ego?  I search for you
to put that sparkle in my work that will transform
mere words into an orgasmic sigh,
but pen in my hand, or fingers on
a keyboard, sounds a cue for you to hide.
I grab at the fragments,
scattered in your wake, and struggle to glue them
into a whole paragraph, while you jingle
the missing pieces in your pocket.
I give up!  Olly, Olly, Oxen Free!

You steal into my consciousness
in those final moments before
sleep drops its curtain, or in a rush
of serotonin on an aerobic walk, or
at 70 miles per hour on the freeway.
Tantalizing, tempting words and phrases
dangle within mind's reach.
Fool that I am, I buy into the game
again, trying to burn your bait into my
long-term memory, as you seduce me into
believing I can't possibly lose it.  When
I am able to write it down, you jerk
it away and run merrily out
of my thoughts, leaving me
in agony one more.
You don't play fair!

Remember the ecstatic fires
our passions ignited--the recognition
that we'd blended words with feelings
into sensuous morsels
for starved emotional pallets?  Wouldn't it be fun
to recreate some "aha"moments, to inspire or
provoke or entertain jaded readers?  We might
produce century-enduring literature.  Do I have
your attention yet?  Come closer, let me whisper
sweet nothings in your ear--fame, power, immortality,
the Oprah Show, maybe even money.  We're so good together.
At least, give me a hug for old time's sake.
There I have you!  Let's run and dance and swing
upside down from a star.  Yes, yes, now we're moving.
Whoopee!  Look out below!