Dandelion Coffee by Frederick Livingston

“Chinchin puipui” farm, Japan

What unsettled me most

was not the ubiquity of bead curtains,

the awkward hand-drawn dragons

crawling across walls

or the fuzzy pink toilet seat’s texture.

It was the way the clock menagerie

chimed separate senses of time

scattered throughout the hour.

Cuckoo chirps, then Charlie Brown

Christmas jingles, later grandfather

clock bellows on and on. Adrift in time

I lay my roots in wandering soil.

Laugh track wafts over empty playground

while child in idling van watches cartoons.

His mother and I pry our horihoris

(father stayed home getting stoned)

beside ragged rosettes liberating dandelions

from earth carefully as if each was a rare

and precious jewel. I too feel like a weed

sometimes, amenable to any bare ground

but feeling nowhere at home.

I wish someone would delight

in my common flowers

roast my roots, savor my bitter flavors.

Frederick Livingston plants seeds, grounded in experiential education and sustainable agriculture. He hopes to grow poems, peace, mangos and avocados. His work has appeared in numerous literary and scientific journals, public parks, and bathroom stalls. His first poetry collection, “The Moon and Other Fruits” is expected in early 2023 from Legacy Book Press.