four for Saturn's hours

i would rather golf
than paint for you
a clue
like a Haitian street
artist in sole-less
shoes.

i would rather shop
than fight for it
hard
like GSP with a sharp
ax kick to the solar
plexus.

i would rather shift
into the grey twilight
unaware
like a free spirited
nymph in a over dramatic
playonwords.

i would rather hate
a poem of mine
own
as Eeyore on
holiday in
Muscatine.

yet
(here i am and
not inspired.)