I sip the steaming tea
From my grandfather’s cereal bowl,
Elbows on the windowsill,
Watching the rain pour down,
Heavy noisy drops pressuring my tomato plants
To give up, lie down, and die.

I don’t like tea,
But I’m drinking it anyway
To spite myself,
Sucking the bitter stuff still too hot,
My revenge against the pressure
To give up, lie down and die.




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