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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Sweet Tea


When I die
I want to be outside
having a glass of sweet tea,
although living is more important
than dying,
and going to a party
more important than staying home.
The problem with dying is,
you do it once,
where living is an oyster roast,
prying out the goodness of something,
one bite at a time,
then making buttons
out of the shells,
and digesting the food
as fast as you eat it.

The South has a gift
for sucking the goodness from things,
and if you don’t rile them,
a southern person’s as sweet as a clam.
There’s a lot of poetry in us.
Women set the table with flowers.
Our children,
when properly reared,
have manners better than royalty.

I suppose it’s civilization,
and letting things mature.
To appreciate.
To listen
and enjoy the words of another.
And no excess.
Too much beer or wine.
Arguing politics,
speaking loud or taking offense.

We are a very young people
in some ways.
Soulful and proud,
and playful.
What will happen as time goes by,
I don’t know.
Maybe the people that come here
will change us less than we change them.
Everything for the good.
And if we come back from the graveyard
now and then,
things will still taste like sweet tea,
the way mama made it.

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