i drank a gallon of matcha tea
to see if it would cleanse
my soul,
but instead, it kinda gave me indigestion,
as the matcha powder clogged my arteries
and made standing kinda difficult,
so now i run everywhere i go
a conversation by the fireplace
while drinking chamomile tea
bought 4 years prior for just such an occasion,
then pushed back, further back,
into the pantry until it was forgotten,
dust settled haphazardly on each tea bag,
but it washed out all the same,
tasted all the same,
maybe a little malty, but what is a little staleness
among friends sharing tea
tea on a hot day,
hot tea on a day,
tea leafs thrown at the wall
and told to stay, don’t move,
be right back,
or maybe not at all,
the simplest of pleasures made to look
too damn complex, rearranged, folded, carved up,
for viewing pleasure,
or a pleasant view,
though not if they are avant-garde,
cause otherwise you’re expected to not like them,
throw them up,
hands up, lay on the ground, don’t look at me!
don’t you dare,
dare, to not look at me!
Fred Aiken Writing 