a nice strong cup
i. a nice strong cup of spicy arugula
arugula is the shishito pepper of leafy greens. you never know what you're gonna get, and by the time you do...there's no time to spit it out.
people expect one thing and then are surprised when they get another. despite being trained my whole life to expect the opposite — to have no expectations at all — it remains an inevitable truth that afflicts me, too. it's a lesson i can't seem to truly learn.
so when i see it, shining green against the perfect peach sheen of your overpriced ceramic bowl, the teacher slaps my wrist with the ruler once more. pay attention — there's something here that's not what it seems
ii. a nice strong cup of cranky words.
he tried to pour the words out like a pitcher of ice water, cautiously and slowly so they'd fall one at a time and make a nice kerplunk. instead, like fresh ice cubes, they came tumbling out all at once, a mass of festered feelings superglued together and slamming into me all at once.
there wasn't a splash of some overthrown water but instead a downpour of yesterday's resentment and last week's agony and tomorrow's grief. it hit my skin, acid rain so hard i could feel the sting for minutes after. up on the kitchen shelf poseidon looked down with his trident with the look of "i told you so."
iii. a nice strong cup of fingernail clippin's
did you know that three months barely makes a teaspoon of fingers? i've saved them up. every month i've missed you, all in one place.
the ends grow sharp as they simultaneously fray, weaker and weaker as time goes on. sometimes i wish these daggers would puncture my skin to satisfy the itch once and for all, but instead i cut them back again and again: an infinite game that i cannot control but still play, wishing to be dealt a new hand.
iv. a nice strong cup of zip ties.
"the commitment is just too much," she said. "it's my intestines and my cells...they're writhing with the sound of zippppp, two soaked towels wrung out and put on the line. you think nothing's changed cause they can dry out in the sun, but inside, the wrinkles and creases caused by all the shapes you forced me into can't be ironed out with heat. my body remembers contortion. you've let go, but the indentations remain."
v. nice strong cup of puns.
laugh a little, c'mon, and don't take yourself so seriously. it's a highway drag race that ends alongside the grave instead of in it, our bodies rolling in the grass while we try to keep our lunch down from belly-full glee. this kinda of cup is immeasurable and overflowing, and that scares you because we'll never be done. to me, it's like stacking hands one atop another. there is no end in sight.