|
By Rhetoric Date: 2001 Aug 22 Comment on this Work [[2001.08.22.16.48.7527]] |
|
And there you were - standing smartly in line, ordering chai. Is this a chance happening? I made you chai with ginger. I wonder, while we play nice in public, if she makes you chai. How can she understand the delicate balance between ginger and cardomon? The subtle dance of honey and milk? You would stand behind me and ask how much and when - when should the milk froth, only to be slowed to a simmer. You ask about family and work, but all I think of is chai with ginger. In your special mug with iris and lilies painted in violet, I poured my love through chai with ginger. Does she not make you the tea that tingles your nose? The hours spent talking and drinking, swilling and biting, the moments when quiet captured a thought. All this we shared, casually, with chai and ginger. The weekend mornings didn't begin until fresh fingers rummaged through a cedar cupboard to find the earthly delights you crave. Ah, your turn. A second of time, a day of dreary memories. I don't order chai anymore. Some sacred symbol must remain of the ritual you have forgotten. I am Earl Grey to your Chai. The exotic has whispered away in my life. All things rush to me now - the pain, the duty, the salty skin, and always the smell of chai with ginger. |