Warming to the Concept

When my fingers are numb

I can’t type, so I make tea

And while I wait for the tea

To warm me up, to steep

I find I lack a spoon

So I reach in with my fingers

Into boiling hot water

And pluck the bag out

When it’s warm in the room

I can’t do it, my fingers

Too sensitive for the pain

And there is pain

When you’re comfortable

When you’re numb

You can stick your whole hand in

It doesn’t make any damned sense

I can’t understand it

It’s just the truth

Misery gives you powers