3am. Toast. and Tea.

3am. Tea. In the kitchen.
Dispense with washing. Just dump some hot water in.
Swirl, tip, shake.
Teabag, water, milk.
Two cups.

He comes in. Also tea. Also dispenses with washing.
Asks me why I was annoyed.
I'm over it.
But tell me, why?
I said I am over it.
Ok. But I do want to know.

Fine. I'll tell you the story.
But I warn you, I was over it.
People. Not. Thinking.
About. The. Effects.
Of their institutional embraces.

Of their hierarchies of power.
Endorsements of hatred.
Protests too late.
Add to the fire.

There's no turning back the clock.
It's done.
It's happened.
And it's there.

That's why.

But wait.
I don't understand.
Why were you upset.

I told you.
I am over it.
Though now it is coming back.
At 3am.
And this was supposed to be a quiet cup of tea.
A quiet cup of tea. Or two.
And toast.

I want to concentrate on the toast.
But what about immigration.
Immigration.
At 3am.
With toast.

Only here.
Only here would this happen.
Put down my toast.
The end was soggy anyway.
Immigration.
News. Panic. Rash. Hatred.
Too much for 3am.

So now.
Toast eaten.
Tea drunk.
Words spent.

What. A. Morning.
Time to switch time zones.
It's 10pm.
Nice.