what does that even mean
sweet mango tea, tart
sweat
blackberry leaves
hibiscus, for show
papaya, for sound
rose hips, etc
but it is blood
what a wonder
thinned with water
tea leaves
like cucumber, how?
like wintery leaves
brittle shells bouncing
like roundabouts
indeed a wonder
most people are absolutely
terrified of roundabouts
in the south
poetry is what makes me
interesting. it's inside you waiting
for me , may I use it, or have it?
why is your ring
so unfocused? reminds
of looking for a single
sock (when its not on
your foot)
Fox!
nearly dead
with the cutest
fidgets
ever seen with a beer.
this is a good way to
get to know a person
and oneself
what is it about poetry?
this is why I need you.
It's the easiest thing in the world, if you let it be. And the hipsters outside the coffeeshop and the hipsters outside the university across from the coffeeshop, across from the university. It was all too easy. I just got tea, and this is just a memory. I'm writing this now, but it happened five years ago. Except nothing happened, except the memory. There was a Katie and a Nikki, me, coffee and tea, bagels most likely, perfectly colored and summered and lengthened green grass, everything seemed to be wood oriented (wooden chairs, wooden tables, wooden stairs, wooden buildings) on the coffeeshop side and concrete type material (but the academic type) on the university side, populated by flocks of hipsters and a girl with some brass (a horn). What they don't seem to know is that there have been hipsters since there have been hips. There can only be one person in the world doing something truly new at any moment, and that moment can last any amount of time.
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