In Martin Amis’s short story “Career Move”, the customary positions of the poet and the screenplay writer are transposed. Screenwriters, toiling in mouldering garrets, submit scripts to obscure publishers in the hope of some pitiable compensation. Poets are flown first-class between London and Los Angeles to discuss million-dollar development deals for single sonnets.

When Paul Muldoon meets me at Princeton station, I wonder whether the story was prophetic. Appearing suddenly, he waves me in the direction of a car. There is nothing especially remarkable about getting a ride from a poet, but this car was a Corvette. A long, gleaming, bright blue Corvette. Perhaps he has signed a mega-contract for some blockbuster new ode?