some days you have nothing

I borrow

a line or two from
something

said, or read, it escapes
me now

and attempt to write
a poem about it,

but it goes nowhere.

some days you have nothing.
the creative side

of you is dry.
the cupboard of your mind

bare, dusty,
with old expired cans on
the shelf.

boxes of old cereal.
strands
of stiff noodles
never to be

boiled,

but just the same,
I move my

fingers across the keyboard
and try.