The Weirdest Place? - Closed

Like everyone else, my muse tends to appear in the least opportune times, such as during a college lecture on the battle of Gettysburg (a fantasy story replaced most of the days much-needed notes) or while trying to separate a fiercesome brawl between my 3-year-old and 21-month-old sons (now how on earth am I supposed to get a pen?).

Yet, I must say that one of the worst places I that my muse has visited me was in the milk cooler of a convenience store that I once worked in. I was supposed to be rotating and restocking gallons of milk when the idea of a poem struck. There I was in the middle of the cooler, a gallon on 1% in my hand when the words "Help me someone, I think that I'm lost" smacked me in the back of my head. I had to put the milk down and quickly write the poem down on the back of the milk order slip. Forty-five minutes, and ten numb fingers later, I emerged from the cooler with first draft of one of my favorite poems to-date.

SisterJ