Afternoon TeaTea-time comes.
I have set each place carefully,
Each setting ever-so aligned.
Perhaps a cup or two is chipped,
But the layout hits the balance -
The feng shui of tea cups,
And the cracks a chai geomancy.
The first of my emotions to come
I guest her politely, asking her
Of things past and present,
Politely saying that she should come by more often.
We both know that she won't.
I am relieved; 'tis better this way.
My hates come next,
Blackly creeping in like
The shadows at 2 AM
When all the cigarettes are gone,
And I sit contemplating which stub
Is long enough to smoke again.
We light up the cherry-red glow
Of old dislikes, wrongs, and angers.
When they leave the emptiness lingers
Stale smoke on a greasy soul.
My loves and affections come next.
We do not linger; the task is not so pleasant.
I will almost miss them
When they are gone.
Finally, I am alone.
I carefully collect the tea-time sea-wrack,
Driftwood of the afternoon's tea.
I gently cradle the cyanide bottle,
All my guests
Care for some tea?
copyright 3 July 2000
by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw; Chattanooga.