Read Lovely Books

I Refuse to Write. How to insist on a

Like a schoolboy who’s won the Golden Buzzer on Britain’s Got Talent, I’ve tried

And I’m walking into the arms of someone who makes me think of home

Namely, myself; not a glass of Zin, not a hunk of chocolate cake, and not a movie

I know the spot on the couch that is waiting, and I’ll be gone awhile

Is it inside the brain? Is it inside the heart? Or the will? Maybe it’s all

Or maybe the eternal “they” are imagining too much? That sounds good

Although I sleep from guilt about health issues, every night, this afternoon I will sleep the sleep

I cannot care, cannot think, cannot remember ever being a writer

Meanwhile, if you want, you could get a day off, too, I’d imagine