Writer's Block, a confession.

I try to renew
Outdo myself
But there exist
So many gems
That make me love the 
Grit of places 
I’ve never even been
Detroit, Naples
What is there to add

I try to squeeze
All that has passed
Into these lines 
But seismic change
Does not bend 
Or lend itself 
To verse or rhyme
Where would I begin

I used to fix a good drink
Pour myself out
With spirit and tonic
A bittersweet blend
Make ‘em laugh
Make amends
My throat is dry today
What is there to say

Typewriters courtesy of LW in NY