Inspiration comes like a rarity,
a precious metal i mine for deep in my bones.
it comes with a perplexed look from the shop keep
running the 5 and dime
after I pay my dues with half cents.
"NO SENSE!"
he screams after the cut-up coins fall in the butt of his palm.
"I know"
I reply
"it really doesn't."
It doesn't come like wild fire on passion fumes but rather
like a spark in front of my mundane
nine to five oxygen tank,
explosive yet fresh like a young upstart in metaphysical politics.
Chances are you thought it was the road
on the infinite side of the landscape with
rest stops every thousand ideas. Chances are
you thought you had to stop for fuel every now and again.
well damn,
chances are this is a road you've never traveled.
It ain't no pristine palace driveway you can cruise to.
No.
This is that marathon cross-country sprint that comes in bursts
so you better catch it once the adrenaline kicks out.