Tea and Benediction

By Rhys Hughes

A BENEDICTION

Two men go every evening
to chip shops on the opposite sides
of town and they frown
each time they pass each other
on the way back
but give no other indication
of acknowledgement
and thus there is no brotherhood
of those who love chips.
A rather sad sight,
chips that pass in the night,
but on the iron balcony high above
is a girl with oven gloves
and she is discarding the ruins
of a failed casserole
onto the dark street below.
Oh, proud men who convey chips
along the thoroughfares
of the sprawling metropolis,
may peas be upon you!


 
MY BABY JUST CARES
(with apologies to Nina Simone)

My baby don’t care for coffee.
My baby don’t care for brandy.
    My baby just cares for tea.

My baby don’t care for obtuse angles
that complicate the corners of academic 
      quadrangles.
     My baby just cares for tea.
Unseasonal unflappability is not in her 
     nature
and even mild crocodiles who insist they 
      don’t hate her
together with those alligators who won’t 
      actually ever see her later
are something she can’t tolerate.
      My baby just cares for tea.

My baby don’t care who highly rates her
but if you own a tea plantation you are in a 
       good position to placate her
provided you don’t try to sedate her
by committing the cardinal sin of adding a 
        tot of whisky or three
or even a lot more to her porcelain teapot
because then she would probably regard you 
        as a rotter.
    My baby just cares for tea.

My baby don’t care for grandfather clocks
that tick and tock all night even  when     
     muffled with socks
and not even finely adjusted barometers
or precision thermometers
can hold her attention for longer than the 
     briefest mention.
   My baby just cares for tea.

My baby don’t care for stress or tension
and guilt and confession are quite beyond 
     her consideration
and the tricks employed to gain mental 
     leverage
are far beneath her appreciation.
   My baby just cares for tea.
My baby don’t care for therapy
because anything connected with 
      psychology
has almost nothing to do with her favourite 
       beverage.
    My baby just cares for tea.

My baby is something of a mystery.
Only one week old and yet already a 
      connoisseur of tea.
Servants hurry back and forth with cups and 
       saucers
whenever she demands refreshment brought 
       to her private quarters
and I can’t help but worry with all this toing 
        and froing
maybe there’s trouble brewing!
      My baby just cares for tea.

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Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.

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