A Brief Correspondence Between Mage and less-immortal Student

Oh, Art, oh, Art won’t get you paid
But Art, for sure, will get you laid.
At fifty, suddenly, you’ve been rash:
That’s enough sex. Where’s the cash?

From the Student to Alice:

In thy Citadel, alone
Your preference for solitude is well-known.
But I say with love: Be realistic.
Not ALL of us are that autistic.

Said Alice:

Still, while I own all the gold there is
I ask of thy income: where is?
Thou spent they life in love-potioneering
Leaving little time for financial frontiering.

Then came a letter, all in gilt,
With a merry man inscribed, playing a kilt
Within was a gift of loving words
And also this, for magic nerds:

“My wealth lies in the love I’ve brought
And—oh yeah, in case I forgot—
I’ve outlived three husbands. All were rich.
Worry not about me, for I’m Queen Bitch.”

Ana Alice was satisfied.

____

And:

A SONG OF DARK LORD ALICE:

Now Alice, she rules everything;
The Dark Lord calls the tune.
She, herself, wishes just one thing:
That she were on the Gods-damned Moon.

_____________

I, for one, don’t plan to stop you if you want to buy some books from me.