Crazy drunk lady
On a Greyhound bus
Asks me what I write.
I say 16 pages a given day
And long into the night.
8,000 pages in the last 8 months
1,000 of them letters.
12 hours each 24
And never during daylight.
She tells me her gut sees
Great things for me in the future,
And clutching my notebook
In the dark
Looking northward
Perhaps, for once, I agree.