A Sad Sad Day for Samin

by Holly Chou

the rain fell all day.
the sun did not shine.
her kidneys flailed madly, weeping all the while
for lack of chocolate, for lack of love.
soothing coffee would warm and massage her heart,
but as she was told it would also claw and ravage her kidneys on the long way down.

the zemocha man would miss her and the coffee can grew dusty.
the former stared out the window and the latter turned rusty.
the curly haired patron saint of dark dark darky dark chocolate
drank cranberry juice instead, with only a touch of vodka every now and then.

did you know that that was called a Cape Cod?
the Greyhound, the Whiskey Ginger, the Suffering Bastard.
these would not miss her so, one because she never loved them very deeply and two because she did not have to stop

but the chocolate? the coffee?

the little anthropomorphized mug of hot chocolate with arms and legs but no face would stop dancing wildly in the middle of the night. instead, he would only sit quietly, sighing a rich chocolatey sigh and leaning his porcelain chin forlornly on one hand. he would grow cold. and old.

the poem could have picked up at the end,
and told of a new day dawning
how all was not lost,
and life would go on
with chocolate in moderation, with growing love of delicious decaf tea

but then
it would not be
a sad sad day for samin.



by holly chou.