I sipped on Tropical Escape, “an exotic blend of green and black tea, pineapple bits, papaya bits, kiwi bits, and marigold [that] makes an incredibly aromatic… cup,” and watched as a former classmate flapped his pie-hole. By the way, the tea was as delicious as it sounds. My taste buds thought someone had killed the stuck-up scholar, and I had gone to a citrusy nirvana.
My tea bliss was broken by a poke in the ribs. I turned to look at one of my favorite writer friends—the Gay Poet—who was saying something about “snooty bastards” and “he can’t be serious.”
I must admit that I hadn’t been listening. I was tea-drunk. But I did catch the usual bit about how I waste my time “blogging and scribbling rubbish” and how “a writer with my talent should be creating for posterity” blah, blah, blah…
I went home after, very graciously, I told the Stuck-up Scholar, “Take your literary elitism and shove it.” I used the word elitism, which of course, made the retort polite ;-)
Do not panic, my Luvs, the meeting didn’t ruin my morning. I got to spend some time with one of my favorite poets, savored delectable tea, and was inspired to write this poem for Magpie Tales 134:
I poured the sun
Out of your squared bottle,
And drank it.
I snatched the sun
Out of your narrowed carton,
And scrambled it.
I freed the sun
From your monochromatic mornings,
Washed it in rainbows,
Rained laughs into its flares,
Caressed my neck with its rays,
And bathed my hips in its heat.
I loved the sun at the witching hour. It was hot, and it tasted good in my mouth.
And while on the topic of beautifully deviated things, here is my entry for Thematic Photographic 212: “At an Angle.” I remember watching as water dripped from the roof and onto the branch. Covering it drop by drop, making it heavier and heavier, bending it, until I was sure it was going to snap. But it did not. The next day the ice had melted. And when the spring came, it bloomed. Nature can be flexible...