We were driving from Fargo to Key Largo.
We got pulled over to the side of the ode for being high on 80-proof inspiration.
My muse was in the back seat tokin’ with Jesus. Our stuff was in the trunk with the rum and the beer. We’d packed in a hurry.
We made one stop, somewhere in the Peach State. I put the make on Georgia. Then we headed straight on down for the Florida line.
Just outside of Valdosta Georgia, a cop car came wailing out of the woods.
In a hurry ole man? Gimme five C notes and you can be on your way. If you got no cash it’s the pokey for you.
Who the hell’s got five C notes! They had us nailed, me for speedin’ and my muse for tokin’.
The judge threw the book at us, something really horrible, like a Danielle Steele bestseller.
So there we were with the prose and the cons, locked away in writers block, seven hours from the Keys. An old man with faded memories, and a muse who was not amused.
—Mich / Drawing by Kafka