It's the difference between catching a falling tea cup
and serving a hot cup of tea to a distant table.
The tea cup isn't easily captured
Its tumble is rapid asymmetry
the handle is a bewildered toddler
equally amazed at it's first frantic steps
as the cold smack of floor on its bottom
a catcher may only sip the intensity for a moment
As opposed to the the long steady burn
in your fingered fore arms
holding the little footprint of a saucer
gazing steadily on a tiny ocean
of tea and tidal movements
a song of urgently wringing china
as the subway passes your first tiny apartment
in the shadow of the M train
I suppose they are the same life
lived in different phases
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