on the block

it's that time again
when words feel all clunky and everything i've ever put down onto paper has that terrible ring to it
like scraping the bottom of an aluminum bowl with a metal fork
when the very whiteness of a screen
the page of a notebook
feels like foolish mockery of my own inefficacy
so, i try at capturing the mundane moments
the fact that i spoke out loud more than once today
that i own a red dress
that the dishwasher is ready to be unloaded

today, i've left my television playing loudly
all day long
and i've never once been in the same room
nor cared to hear
the rattle

it's that time again
when i've got to pack my life into useless cardboard boxes
track across town to some new place
where there's less this
and more that
where i'll be closer
and hopefully get farther away
it's a place that looks a lot like it should be on the edge of the ocean
but isn't