Somewhere in the tea bag is the tea leaf that she picked
from the bush under the tree which cast shade in the sun
and her tiny hands pulled it from the plant
and now it's in hot water
brimming on the cup the edge of which
is almost about to steam
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...