Merciless Muse

A man who had painted himself all blue

Shouts political diatribes into a megaphone,

Without pause for breath. He shouts

At everyone, at no one, about

Everything wrong.

I sit and listen respectfully for a while,

Then, when I walk past, I thank him for speaking,

Wanting to honor the effort it takes

To express himself so honestly.

He ignores me.

I suppose that you don’t paint yourself blue,

And shout into a megaphone, if you care what

Anyone thinks, or need some woman’s approval.

He serves a merciless muse,

Poor man.