I just want to lie
in a cold Canadian lake-
toes pointed to the sky.
Where when commuters pass they wonder,
what the fuck is that guy doing–
and somewhere in a considered safe distance
is a moose.
and I’m reflecting on my muse.
The tiniest of poet voices
that quietly walks into my bedroom
every other night after 3am for our tea.
The nights session ends with a cool hip song.
and I try to go back to sleep.