LOVE LETTER FROM BOBA TO SAXOPHONE

You knocked the wind out of me.

Jammed your wooden mouthpiece into my plastic lid, 

as if you could use it to suck my tapioca pearls.  

My warm almond milk tea entered your mouth, down your neck,

to reach your bow. You untwisted your mouth pipe

to rid of my sweet tea —

shook out all my black bubbles. 

But soaked in honey and stuck in your body,

my Boba is your addiction  

and you cannot shake me. 

So, you tried to play in real time to 

rid of my stickiness;

keys up, keys down, foot tapping 

face calm. 

When I heard your boogie-woogie 

and double time, 

it blew me away. 

You cut the line, 

crushing my plastic parts, 

made me feel free from orders, 

one line of your saxophone spoils

my fat Boba straw to tremble

alto this world.