Taxes Block

Inside my imagination is static, full of old used furniture with dust. A room that was furnished and later forgotten. Sitting in it causes a sneeze. Every now and then there's a sign of life, like a mouse, that quickly runs back inside the wall. Then I hear it back there running around; soon it will die and you know what that's like. There is just nothing doing here!

Outside, a few bulbs have popped up, surprising. People are out there tending their bits of green, and some have planted petunias. Birds fly in and out of bushes in the back yard. White breasted, black and white striped, totally red zooming through the air, or bottle necked morning doves: watching these beats waiting for an original thought to peep into a dusty room.

Or also beats working on income taxes, which is the plan for today. Guess I have "taxes block."