Tea & Permission

Secret prize at the bottom

Jul 13, 2025

Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!

I’m so happy you’re here.

The story of these poems: I mentor young-20-somethings in my day job as a cafe manager, and a lot of my time is spent reassuring them that they can be and do whatever they desire as long as they aren’t hurting anyone. This week, I turned that lens inward.

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WEAK TEA

I told myself I had to sound like a “better person”
To become a “better person.”
I didn’ wanna die a Vermon’er,
Fulla idears,
Watchin’ the sap run while I stood still,
Tas’in’ the world in TV-size portions,
Microwaved, not grilled.
Woodchucks like us don' leave the land we work,
And we never change our ways.

The tea is astringent, sharp and foreign,
But I force my tongue to learn its design,
Tell myself that anyone who flees their home
Must learn a second language,
So this is normal.
Totally fine.

(So many small pinches as I freed myself from the pile,
So many well-intentioned claws plucking at my skin,
But this was one bucket 
I had no intention of dying within.)

Sometimes,
I get tired,
My tongue ceases its watch,
And I become a Vermon’er again:
My crown of au'umn leaves,
My blood runnin' like trees.
Being a “better person” is hard work.
Sometimes, the tea is weak.

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PERMISSION

Get the piercing.
Ask the shop for the jewelry with the gems. 
Keep your wound clean.

Dye your hair the color that your parents taught you
would make you unemployable.
(Just don't forget to cover your hairline with Vaseline.)

Have fries with your sandwich.
Eat, not until you’ve consumed half the meal,
until you feel your belly sigh with relief.

Treat each man as an individual, not as a predator.
Remember that your eyes are not a reliable gauge
of someone’s inner peace.
 
Rest when you’re tired,
not when someone gives you permission.
You know your limits:
just close your eyes and breathe.)

Dress your body so it’s comfortable,
not so it’s acceptable. 
You simply cannot please everyone,
so why not make it you who's pleased?

Have messy handwriting
because your ideas fly faster than your hand. 
My God, you are too brilliant for perfect penmanship.
Unleash your thoughts like spring breeze.

Let your leg hair grow, 
long and black,
until you remember that you are already perfect and whole.
(See what happens 
if the pits and bush grow free.)

It's alright to be alone
if the alternative is unkind. 
Sometimes, space must be made,
old growth burned down and released.

Why do you need all that caffeine?
Notice the fear there. 
What is carrying you through the day?
What is missing that you need?

Remember that you look quarter-life young,
so you will have to repeat your good ideas
and hold your ground. 
You know when you're right,
now get up off your knees.

Mistakes are not something to hide,
they’re how we level up.
Other people will make mistakes, too.
Let it happen. 
Retain your peace. 

Ignore all this,
every word,
and do whatever the fuck you want. 
First, breathe.