As true as amusing poetry

Muse:

she found me
wandering, handfuls of apostrophes and
mouthfuls of wine that smell of glue,
holding tired bones tightly.

We hadn't spoken for awhile,
but she sneaks a look in most days; inspiration from registration plates
- HUB and NIB, three letter words that glaze
over my face while she whispers about

branches and fingers of words attached
to everything, most days we get along
but when she wants attention she draws my eyes
as she's written.

Joining with something like the moon,

always looking over
with mysterious expressions
they lead me to think of true
things that change nightly.

Lightly dusted with ideas,
the NIB of any pen would stutter so
much, so
far we're still being watched.
She's just a source of amusement

and the only clear exit.