WHY I CANNOT WRITE TODAY

My cockatiel is eggbound and she can’t be left alone.

My shower caught fire and I had to leave my home.

My Uncle came to town, though he’s been dead for seven years.

My allergies are awful and I just broke down in tears.

I saw a hairy  spider in the back seat of my car.

I have to help to skipper a New York garbage barg.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my first smoked cigarette,

I’m dreaming up a list of other things that I regret.

I know it seems I’m making up some silly alibis,

but I’m not.  I just can’t write today.

I mean, why would I lie?