post script (on tea and allusions to bukowski)

Published June 6, 2012 by April Fox

he brings me cinnamon tea
with sugar
and a splash of milk
retreats to his spot on the other loveseat
in the other room
where we can see each other through buddha’s face
crafted out of fine wooden beads
(half of them missing,
but still
the eyes are clear)
we’re neither of us buddhist
that’s not the point
mary, mother of god watches us too
from the wall above the sofa
her counterpart, a cowboy
with an infant and a weapon
stares across from the wall
we are not picky in our choices
of home decorator
anyway, i digress-
the tea, and it’s just the right temperature
and i tell him i need to go to bed soon
and he knows i need to write for just another minute
and he knows
(i think)
that these are the words i meant for him
but choked on in my ever-present
state of self-disgust and inability to
the shit that falls out of my mind
onto my tongue

without words, i know that he knows
and we are one year into one thing,
two years into another
solidified and leaving all the fans and followers
with questions we won’t answer
i’m off track now, some bright tangent
caught my eye and led me backward

he brought me tea
cinnamon, with sugar and a splash of milk
and he loves me, even in my
silent, dark
bukowski days.

One comment on “post script (on tea and allusions to bukowski)

  • nice sentiments…those first years are almost always magic, its the years much later when differences become problems…of course you know this-I hope that as years pass, the magic stays with you.


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