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Fresh and raw -- I take a sip
of bitterness and swallow,

wincing as the bite slips

down my throat -- I take another.

Everyone whirls. In the lamp

sticky droplets glob and spew;

music explodes, close by.

I stand up, sit hard on the floor

again, drink more -- I drink more.

Something about a fountain

and let's go and we are all out

tramping wonky in the damp grass.

I see the Fount of Helicon --

Hippocrene, in front of the art

building -- source of anapestic

inspiration, or tipsy drivel,

I don't know. I look down

to untie my shoe and look up.

Young men frolic -- naked --

and imbibe the sacred water.

Pegasus himself stands

among them, water spewing

from under his hoof. Thus

my undergrad Muse is born.