I've hit a dry spell. Promised to write a poem, but nothing comes to mind. I wonder where Erato is?
"She's busy dictating to a poet in Tillsonburg."
Who are you?
"I'm one of her sisters."
"It isn't relevant."
Hey! Nice dress! Very revealing.
"Thank you, you old lecher."
I am old, but I'm not a lecher.
"Matter of opinion."
You must know readers think I'm smoking funny stuff when I get in these conversations.
"Do you care?"
Not really. What's Erato dictating?
"It's none of my business, but FYI it's love poetry, naturally, for some bloke in Straffordville."
In Straffordville! Hey, I've been getting some pretty intimate poetry from a Tillsonburg poet. Could it be Erato is communicating through her instead of directly?
"Figure it out, cretin, but be advised she is simply helping this poet put inarticulate feelings of her heart into words. She has no more personal attraction to you than a flea to a bucket of mud."
Ouch! So when she's finished in town, will she be available to me again? I really want to get this promised poem down on paper.
"It rather depends on the demand. You know how referrals to Dr. Colaco are placed in order of urgency. It's quite the same sort of situation. Remember, you're a minor poet."
Whadda you mean, minor? The late Dr. Reaney described my 'Under the Pin Cherry Tree' a great tobacco poem! My hat size increased by three.
"Not so fast, smarty pants. You know that falls under possibly epic poetry. I say possibly to keep your hat band from being ripped apart. Nothing to do with love poetry."
Well, just hold on yourself, don't forget old Dobbin had the hots for Queenie in that agony in nine fits!
"Yes, and you remember it took you all of two years to polish that piece. Do you have any idea how great a nuisance you were to us muses?"
Shouldn't that be 'we muses?'
"Check your grammar. The preposition, to, takes the objective case."
So anyway, when do I get to the top of the line here? Dang, she winked out on me.
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