bought a teapot. In
all the years we lived together,
that was the one thing we did not buy.
We bought that little shelf for tea and cookbooks
that spun. We bought film and bike parts and tools and
food -lots of food- garden gloves and tickets (art, music, art,
theater, art, travel, dance dance dance dance). We bought
socks (for each other) and a camera and a puppetry course.
Paint that still stains my clothes, lemons to bleach our
hair, many cans of cider, bottles if we were feeling
fancy. Emergency mustaches, cheese in all it’s
forms, a lime green radio named Cedric for
the kitchen. Always we split it, with
the knowledge that one day, it
would all belong to her. We
bought everything we
could justify from
every art supply
store and a
But never a teapot.