I was born and they said

“I bet she’ll like coffee”.

The right chromosomes you see

and I cared not a jot

happy with my breast milk

I didn’t understand why everyone

was so worked up about hot drinks.

 

But time passes and I turned twelve,

started to look at mugs, china cups,

saw the tea my father chain drank,

the coffee my mother savoured,

figured either would do to douse my thirst.

Looked up with childish glee and saw tall faces:

“You will drink coffee

you will admire coffee

you will do what coffee says

you will fall in love with coffee

settle down with coffee

you will serve coffee all your goddamn life”

 

Didn’t think it was worth, asking about tea.

 

So I did drink coffee.

I drank it by the gallon:

tried instant coffee against the back walls of clubs,

tried espresso, found it was over too soon,

tried filter coffee, who told me to lose weight,

tried latte which was just

too phlegmy.

 

Coffee was jittery,

didn’t know where to put it’s hands,

thought it was something special if I at least, enjoyed it.

 

Coffee was demanding:

I must wear make up and a dress!

Requested I pluck my eyebrows,

moaned about my breasts,

coffee wanted me to wank it off in the middle of the night.

 

Eventually I asked:

 

“it’s alright this coffee, but have you got anything else?”

 

“Oh yes my dear but it’s not for you!

You like coffee remember?

Coffee fulfils you completely”

 

“Oh.”

 

Kinder ones replied

 

“Maybe you just haven’t had the right cup of coffee yet.”

 

But coffee was fine, it did the job,

it was hot and wet

and I wasn’t thirsty afterwards

 

But that I’m told we mustn’t do

becomes just that which we pursue

and I was surrounded

without censor

by sexy, curvy, sweet cups of tea,

slurped carelessly by boys and men.

 

“It’s not for you!”

“But my father loved tea!”

 

I flirted relentlessly but knew I couldn’t drink it,

didn’t know why I couldn’t drink it,

thought I’d really like to try it,

felt ashamed I’d like to try it,

couldn’t help but try to try it.

 

So under the pretence of seeking a university degree

came to Manchester, in ravenous search for tea.

 

And tea leeks out Manchester’s walls!

University life is filled with tea:

Crusty dreadlocked herbal tea;

Daddy prada earl grey tea;

Enthusiastic new found tea with asymmetric hairdos.

There’s tea meetings, shops and clubs.

There’s even a tea drinkers pub!

 

Tea took me, nourished me, let me be me,

in pajamas, unshaven, unplucked.

Tea fucked me like tea does.

Didn’t shriek at menstruation

or react with indignation when I wouldn’t wank it off.

Didn’t moan about my breasts, for tea had breasts too!

Went on a bit about goddesses but

tea knew where to put it’s hands

and I knew how to treat tea.

And what a surprise: Tea was better at it then me!

 

But the world of tea it seems is not itself without restriction

for tea drinkers can’t help but force the conviction

I must drink only tea!

When they found out I’d slurped

a cup of coffee that very morning.

 

They said coffee was against us, said that coffee was the enemy

and with a exhausted sense of de ja vu

I grew sick of this dichotomy of

just what it is I must not do.

 

And remember, that we must not do,

becomes just that which we pursue

and coffee leeks out Manchester’s walls!

 

I learnt to avoid the phlegmy coffee,

the coffee that just wanted to watch me drink tea.

Found coffee that knew where to put it’s hands

And coffee took me, nourished me, let me be me,

In pyjamas, unshaven, unplucked,

coffee fucked me like coffee does.

 

But like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones

I mustn’t admit to enjoying both

and in a quandary lived a double life

and slowly noticed the world was rife with those who

want their coffee and their tea,

drink one in public, the other secretively.

The same who bawl with self righteous anger

That I must choose.

 

Weary of hypocrites

for they protest too much

I held up my head and took a mug, a tea bag,

and a spoonful of coffee

and stirred

and stirred

and didn’t stop when they objected,

didn’t stop when they rejected me from tea drinking clubs

 

and now when I drink tea

they call me a tea drinker.

When I sup coffee, a coffee drinker.

But they know I do both,

 

I drink tea, I drink coffee,

Because they both wet my whistle.

Jackie Hagan