"Going Hand to Hand with the Muses." by craic

The trouble with Melbourne was
it was hard to find a place where
I could write and smoke.

Here I am in my non-smoking Homestay
waiting for everyone to go to sleep so
I can open the window and write (and smoke).

Here is the bit of yard off my office at Melbourne Uni
where I can write and smoke. And smoke and write.
Desk and chair, laptop on a long lead, and ashtray.

I'm not expecting rain.

My office is in a building that reeks of charm.
Just one terrace in a row of them in Barry Street.
However have to leave by 7pm and not available on weekends.
Some of my best writing is done after 7pm and in the weekends.

Some of you Muses are complete ***es!

I am sitting on the doorstep waiting for the Muses to drop by.

An ant is struggling with a shred of leaf as big as a mainsail.
He hoists it in a south-easterly direction for 10 minutes
turns and tacks back towards from whence he came.

Yep. Out of my way! Let me at my laptop!
The Muses have condescended to visit.

Arrggh! The Muses are with me. But it is 7pm.
I rush the laptop down Flemington Road to my Homestay.
Everyone still up and awake. Milling around. Not smoking.
Can't use my possy in the downstairs kitchen by the window.
I have to set up outside. Desk, chair, laptop, long lead, ashtray.
The outside light (motion sensitive) clicks off decisively with a
- nothing going on! nobody here! – did a muse brush my cheek?
Or a moonbeam? I swoop my arm up – and the light goes on.