Espresso in a tea ceremony...

                                    “There is always the risk,”

She said, slurping down steam,

                                    “You will hug them so hard

                                      That they'll squirm to escape.

                                      And there's always the risk

                                      That you'll crush someone's dream,

                                      Just by turning up volume,

                                      Re-playing their tape.”

I asked, 

             “Then, why do it?”

Nearby heads nose-pecked in,

Nodding, sold so deeply on

The story: 

                  good is “Kind.”

She just blazed there, like a

Sun flare, too close and so distant:

                                     “Strangling weak dreams leaves out

                                       Good meat for the stronger dreams to find.”

Some people backed away then,

Hawing, 

               “Oh no, she's a danger.”

Some laughed, 

                “She reminds me

               Why I work hard to fit in.”

I just watched her big eyes 

                 peeling

                     all the paint off the ceiling

     until—planks fell, 

                            then star light,

                                       shining just on her skin.