So what if life is
like a little tea party,
blanket spread atop
Krakatoa? The tea
is just as sweet,
the timing though
more urgent, hard
to indulge or enjoy
waiting for the explosion
I suppose I could move
to some safer valley but
the view, my great God
the view! How could I
tip my pot in any other
place and look you
honestly in the face
its smokiness, it's
echoes a certain peculiar
flavor I can't resist.
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