Countless have sat here
writing in books
sitting and sipping on a cuppa.
Each, including me, are convinced of their original work
but am I the first to write of the writers?
We’re a snooty bunch, referencing our exquisite taste,
sitting on the bench
book on the table
scribbling away at some important thing.
Cross you legs, writer.
Puff on that cigarette.
You’re composing now, don’t let Him stand in your way.
He’s looking on, careful, until
He comes up and pushes away.
He’s got something to say
an opinion unvoiced
Push Him into the street.
Make Him freeze.
He’s not welcome here, not while you’re sitting and sipping.
If that sounds hard, just ask Him to step out
–a short second
–while you finish this thought.
He responds to that.
use the fury
the time crunch as motivation
finish what you started.
Give it a go.
You’re not alone on that bench sitting and sipping.
We’re with you.
We want to read it.
We yearn to know.
Just one more line,
and it’ll be done.