It’s the way though innit the muse leaves
and your mouth aches for more song, but
the veins are filled with foul air and
dust muscles do not move So what
do we wait like house cats why not
as long as we’re in service we
must serve and hope the mistress one
day deigns to lay down a circle
of honey no, of course we’re not
worthy but keep the pen handy and with
any luck we’ll find some lunch and
sell a few things and maybe tip
that dusty bottle from the snow-capped
shelf where the third expedition failed
other animals 