Thai Milk Tea
Ice cubes and milk twirl along with my spoon, painting white spirals in the pool of terra cotta orange at the top of my glass. The escaping aroma is like that of a flower, which smells sweet enough to eat, minus the nasty prickle of pollen. Served either hot or cold, its flavor is always warm and rich, the type that sinks into your chest as you take a sip. Thai tea feels like staying inside on a rainy day. And whenever I need a boost, Thai tea is like a gentle nudge on my shoulder on a lazy summer afternoon.
I’ve found the perfect drink for me - Thai tea becomes exactly what I need it to be when I need it. Pity I don’t get to have it that often.
Ice shoots down my spine as my tongue absorbs the flavors. The sweet sticky smell sticks in my nose hairs, filling every inhale with strawberry and lemon. My teeth feel gritty but it's worth it as the frigid liquid drags acidic claws down my throat. My lips curl as I rescue the last few drops of my drink from spending an eternity on my lips or wiped on my shirt, and I go to get another glass of lemonade.
Slow? All of them meander
Tempered their tantrums suppressed
On the back burner. More?
Drifting by the tall drinks of water
Half empty at best.
Half full the real jewel
Much better their jest
Who wish to protest?
Drink it in. Paired with a grin
Thirst quenched well versed in this very thing
Hustle and guzzle spout off
Catch a muzzle
All gassed now
Evaporate and be caste out
Hold up don’t be to rash now
Black & White Russian’s relax vow
Speak well of few
But moderate viewed
No voodoo no fast one on you who?
Think over drinks middle out. Simple thing
Couth? Something to it.
Truth? Ringing thru it?
Have you no prof?
Revel or Rue in it
Top shelf corked or unscrewed is it?
Few resist the devil his due getting loose
Looser with each sip
Displaced by sinking ships
SHOTS! That’s a whole separate quip
Crack. Pop. Fizz
While sitting on the sofa, a young woman feels the dryness of her mouth while watching TV. It's an unpleasant sensation. Her tongue feels like sandpaper as it sticks uncomfortably against the roof of her mouth.
As she sits, she contemplates what to drink. She's thirsty and desperate, but she wants to choose the most refreshing beverage she can.
The thought of something cold and bubbly enters her mind as she stands and heads to the refrigerator. She knows she has water but she wants something sweet, so she looks carefully at the crowded insides of the fridge for options.
At first, she sees nothing to quench her thirst and looks back at the sink faucet despondently. But there, from the corner of her eye, a green can catches her attention.
It's a sprite.
With the eagerness of a desert traveler, she reaches for the can and places it on the countertop. The cold metal feels good against her warm skin and she imagines the relief her mouth is about to receive.
With careful determination, she opens the can and relishes in the crack and pop of the metal breaking and opening. She lifts the can to her parched lips and takes a sip. The cold liquid coats her dry mouth and slides down her throat. She lets out a satisfied sigh as the fizzy substance soothes the rough interior of her mouth.
After swallowing her first sip, she raises the can again and takes another hefty gulp, releasing yet another sigh when this mouthful slides down her throat too.
It takes five deep gulps before the liquid is gone and the can is empty. Her parched mouth is damp again and she returns to her place on the sofa satisfied.