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Suite Tea
“Long before I noticed the ivy growing upon the walls of my thoughts,
I fell in love with your son,
and I wanted desperately to tell him that he was beautiful.”
And I rubbed my temples.
And I rubbed my temples.
And I longed for the day on which I would become something meaningful.
I became fond of my music.
I became fond of anything, anything other than the ivy climbing up the walls.
I became wholesome, completely broken into pieces.
I became fond of everyone, everyone who was climbing up my walls.
“Once I fell upon the realization that I would never become globally significant, I ceased all pleasurable
and splendid thoughts of fame and fortune.
Once I came to the realization that *HE* and *HER* and *YOU* and *HIM* were out of my league, I
stripped the ivy forth from my walls with such vengeance, vigor, and enthusiasm not seen by many.”
Long before I noticed the ivy growing upon the walls of my temples,
I fell in love with your thoughts,
and I wanted desperately to become fond of anything, anything other than vengeance, vigor, or enthu-
siasm.
At precisely four o’clock in the afternoon, I stumbled outdoors as if I was a ghoulish thing, and gazed
aimlessly at your BRIGHT and PROMISING eyes and
waited patiently for
you to sip your suite tea,
and tell me more about myself:
“This young man had been awaiting lethargically for the ivy to encompass all of his accelerating matu-
ration, grandiloquent ideals, and sensible infatuations until hE HAD
GROWN UP TO BECOME A STUPID OLD MAN WHO WOULD STRIKE THE GROUND HARD-
ER THAN
I would later STRIKE my wife, claiming that my ivy league degree justified each and every one of my
actions.
Because I was a part of this system before you noticed anything - even the ivy.”
Jack Russell
12.20