One tea

One tea,

she screams

into the back

of the teashop

where the hectic

brewery blows

and whistling water

turns into fumes

and all the booming

conservations turns

into rhythmic blues

backed up by the melodious

yawps of young souls—

yelling from their trapped souls.

And the teashop talks

and people listened

to its monologues filled with curses

to everyone who is loafing

without any intention or purpose—

just sitting and staring at each other

and letting their hearts be filled

with everything they see while

pouring their tea into ceramic cups

and lighting up cigarettes to add

to the atmosphere of dripping

deep flows of words

And she smiled,

as she placed

one tea

on my

table.