Sunday afternoon       april, 1991


i wish for a cup of tea, 
but not one to be served 
in any ordinary cup.

it must be of the finest, 
whitest, cleanest, thinnest 
veneer of china, 
confining
a rich, fragrant, and succulent 
herbal tea.

it is my skill that i wish 
to employ in manipulating the cup, 
daintily bringing it to 
the softest of landings, 
precisely on its saucer.

i wish to impress you, 
my lovely,
with my skill in the management 
of an afternoon tea, 
and only when you 
are demonstrably impressed, 
then we shall draw 
the curtain and make love.