A second poem

August 31, 2016

Credit to mantarui, whose WordPress made me realise I’d missed yet another year of singwripomo, or whatever it’s really called. Ohwell. Two briefs caught my eye and I decided to be a fashionably late participant (or thief, really, since I’m not actually linked to the movement; I don’t even know how to).

I also decided to write on tea, firstly because I am very fond of the beverage, and secondly to protest against the idea that cooled tea might be better thrown away- that is heresy.

Drunk Tea’

I drank my first cuppa when I was thirteen
The sec4 senior I had a crush on and I hiding from the rain in Bishan park
At a store which no longer exists
I was uncertain but he urged me to try
this paper cup of hot Lipton tea
Afterward we resumed rollerblading,
pavement killing as many earthworms as I’d never seen before or since.

Tehsuidaibanshao is how I like it now
The scary tattooed dude with dark purple lips taking over
his wizened grandfather’s lorong eight stall makes the perfect tabao.

Mommy hypothesized last week that I need tea to recover from her shopping sprees
She asked me every morning after to get meself some, and once made it for me.
I was brusque when I shouldn’t have been.

Safe, safe tea, safety,
Drink (n), drunk, drank, drinking.
Solace in semantics
Darjeeling’s advertisement on the sidebox promising to make difficult conversation better,
Acarchon’s “every time is a good time for tea” teapot which I didn’t buy although I liked the words.

Remember this: drunk tea and I hand-in-hand
Walking intoxicated down that sunset boulevard
Waving at you
The headyness of everyday living.


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