Inspiration that itched within me when I was driving my car but two hours ago, has curled up its toes, tucked its head into a pillow and gone to sleep. If only I'd had a pen and paper, a record button, a Woolworth's receipt, then maybe I could have captured those ideas launching through my mind, clear as a backlit billboard on the highway to the airport saying 'write me', 'write me'. But now I'm left with nothing except an empty bowl with corn chip crumbs and lukewarm tea.
