i am vanilla chai in a mug that tells you
im a plant person, fresh bought from target, 
only two or three or four hours ago,
i am dirty fingernails, and chipped paint, and
and split ends with blond streaks, 
because thats how much the sun loves me
and i buy conditioner, but i dont use it 
because it takes too much time.
i never understood people who took long showers,
but i will sit in the bath with tea or breakfast
and even then, the water gets cold
or i get too sweaty, and whats the point then,
of being clean, if you are leaking salt water
from your pores, so i get out, 
and sometimes i sit on the toilet lid,
contemplating life and scrolling through my phone
and i wonder if i am depressed again
or if i'm just doing this because i'm weird like that.
i am running, when your knees burn 
because i dont drink enough water,
but the endorphins make me forget
that i've been sad, so i keep going 
and i know how far it is to the car wash
and to the fire department,
and to the end of the sidewalk; smells like
laundry detergent in front of the laundromat,
which is the sort of thing you'd expect,
and the stench of grease and garlic bread
turns your insides queasy by the pizza place.
im dancing in the kitchen, baking something
it could be bread or cookies or cupcakes
and probably i had to google some kind of substitution
how do you make whole milk from powdered skim?
it calls for a teaspon of vanilla. 
i give it a tablespoon. maybe two. or three.
causes thats what my mama does.
except she just pours in it til it feels right. 
except shes not my mama, that's a long story.
im the color yellow. yellow flowers at the supermarket,
4.99 because you saw them and you thought of me,
yellow dresses, yellow mugs, yellow teeth sometimes
if i drink too much coffee, maybe thats why they don't like me.
yellow is the color of the sun and happiness, 
and if my soul is any color, i hope it's yellow.
i am coffee on the deck looking out;
mountains whispering to me from the clouds,
trees calling my name, while my lover sleeps close by;
i am loneliness that weighs more that my weighted blanket
but isn't at all comforting; tastes like the inside of a cup
that wasn't rinsed all the way, it's bitter and chemical
and the taste makes you scrunch your face, 
and sometimes you rinse it out with a hundred dating apps,
swipe, swipe, swipe - and sometimes you just chug it down
because i'd rather be bitter than give up the tea,
i am vanilla chai, in a mug, that tells you i'm a plant person.