tea poems written in a dirty car

She’d really like to like tea.

She thinks it’d be swell; divine.

Lovely and elegant

Mild, pure and refined

Akin to hand written letters

the ones that she never scribes

The blankets she doesn’t knit

The sound advice she declines.

She really wants to want tea, you see

This has been her ambition

She’d let it steep and arrange flowers

in her tidy, white kitchen

She would be present, not distant

Pragmatic in her decisions

Make poster boards of her visions —

Care more about her nutrition

She really needs to drink this tea, lately

she makes it quite a lot

The honey-milk ratios lack balance

It’s luke-warm or blistering hot

and now she’s getting distraught

and now she feels like a liar.

She takes a sip, it burns her mouth

she’s wearing low-cut attire

She’s standing in her white kitchen,

but it’s not tidy enough.

She’s having doubts that she is doubting

about this man she should love. About this man who loves

her

and this tea she should drink.

She wishes tea could be the cure

and pours hers out into the

sink.