stealing

Stealing Away The Block

I meet for lunch, with a couple of writers

About ever other week

We usually talk sports

And size up the women around us

Eventually we get to our writing

Sometimes we share our notes

Passing them back and forth

While waiting for criticism or praise

We always mention how much writing we have been doing

We talk about endless nights of our ideas

Sometimes I scribble some ideas down

Ideas I, or the others, have mentioned

With intentions of using it later

I have in the past, seen my friends jotting notes, too

And I get a good laugh

Because I can see what they’re doing

I can read their minds

They’re telling the table

“I HAVE THE BLOCK!”

“I ACTUALLY HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO WRITE ANYTHING GOOD IN DAYS!”

I laugh, because I’m the same

But writers are proud

Or stupid

Or both

So we sit at the table

And talk about how great we all are

All our endless ideas

Lying to each other, with big smiles on our faces

And we’d all like to wrap the lunch up

Go home and try again

To write something that we’re proud of

Something that kills the block

Something filled with the ideas

We stole from our friends

© Dicky J Loweman 2015