The fruits of another day
have been mashed up
by my mother's
treasured mortar and pestle.
I will gather the
crushed seeds, and sprinkle
them with care
upon the freshly baked
fluffy, strawberry
faith cake
of which I will slice
and feed my family,
and all of those
wishing for a bite of love.
I will take the
sunny, sweet juices,
drop in a handful
of humble tea leaves,
pour in half a cup of
fervent longing's
fuzzy, pink lemonade,
a generous amount
of golden, savory
poetry syrup,
and three spoonfuls of my grandmother's
lovely minty remedy
for calling forth
the spicy, sultry desire to live.
I take my
Lush Life's Drink
into the Purple Midsummer Cafe,
and quench the thirsts
of translucent, paper people
tolling throughout
endless
days and nights,
solving countless
math & society problems,
writing novels of
insecurities, acceptance,
& hope,
and every evening,
all gathering at
the Purple Midsummer Cafe
to faithfully consume
my
Lush Life's Drink,
paying up the small fee of
a tender smile or so,
a warm enveloping hug,
a handshake of
gratitude & humility.
01/24/18