I sat down to write tonight with absolutely no ideas at all.  I grabbed pen, paper and a cup of coffee (decaf) in my favorite mug, which says, “Not now, my muse is kicking ass.”  Between you and me, that was a total lie.  The muse was nowhere to be seen.  I took a few sips of coffee, and to my surprise, the muse did indeed join the party.  Unfortunately, I think she thought the invitation was to a junior high slumber party.  What she brought with her was regular, rhyming poetry.  I don’t write rhyming poetry.  I don’t like rhyming poetry.  Rhyming poetry is not the ass kicking that I was looking for.  But, it’s what I got.  And with seventy-seven poems still left to write, I hope that this one will get lost somewhere in the messy middle of these hundred days.