I have been drinking a lot more tea this year.
I’m not sure exactly why.
Because it’s healthier maybe?
Helps me consume more water?
To foster nostalgia?
I equate drinking tea somewhat with drawing.
There was a coffee shop
And we would go there just to be.
Some kids would smoke,
Because back then you could do that
In some of the coffee shops.
But most of us would sit
And drink coffee.
Perhaps because I drank coffee
At the other coffee shop in which I worked all day,
I turned to tea in the evenings
When I was away from my home base.
At any rate,
Ginger Peach & Cinnamon Plum.
Those were my two favorites.
They probably still are.
And I would sit and look around
And find someone to draw
Or someone would ask me to draw them.
I have a little book of those faces
From long ago
Sketched with my colored pencils.
I can smell the pencils,
The hot, fruity tea,
The stale cigarette smoke,
The vinyl vintage booths-
I can hear the mingling of people,
The bell on the door,
The clatter of mugs,
The hiss of the steam wand,
The slam of the register drawer,
Loud scooting of wooden chairs against the floor,
Ben Kweller singing in my head,
But probably Death Cab over the speakers.
That place holds many memories.
Mostly good ones, but a few sad too.
But the tea times
Were always good.