TEA WITHOUT SUGAR

These days I take my tea without sugar, 

And I like the music turned down low. 

I have less appetite for small talk,  

And I like books that are short but truthful. 

I love you but I don’t want to own you. 

When you’re gone, I will miss you

But not too much; 

I start shows on Netflix and abandon them. 

I look up at the sky and am transfixed. 

I look also at the banyan tree’s roots 

On some nights while going home; 

The roots hanging long and still, 

Like a sleeping woman’s hair  

Hanging off of the edge of the bed. 

I have less and less to say to people. 

I tune into silence with alacrity, 

Like it’s a preferred radio station. 

I am casting off old darlings 

One by one; sugar, sound, drama. 

“Well, dear, life is a casting off. 

It was always that way.” 

I remember those lines 

From an Arthur Miller play. 

Am I getting older and wiser, 

Or merely older and colder? 

How to be sure? 

Maybe I don’t want to be sure;

I’ll cast off that darling too; 

The need to feel sure. 

What was that? 

Do I need anything? 

No, my dear. 

Well, maybe a cup of tea, 

If you’re having some too. 

Warm, not piping hot. 

And no sugar.