A tea party you say?
How many pots for the table?
What hat to wear, button to adorn, spectacles to consider.
What is the location?
Shh, you can never give away the location.
Maybe there are many occurring all at once, never know what table to sit at.
Whether there shall be chairs filled by other people.
People with a hominin voice in control of their reason, let along a discussion point to work on.
Or whether I would just sit and slowly thread my fingers around the cloth over the table.
A tea party, where everyone changes places, thrown from one sitting to the next.
Maybe the wrong words exchanged and goodness, the table of their party is but a wedge of wood forked in between blocks of cement. Detritus air and nothing fair.
Maybe that was fair? Maybe if the table is wedged in between beams of steel, goodness, how does one impact structural bearings tactically these days for such a scene to occur.
A tea party, with a hat to represent what detracts regional stasis, not people flicking switches and pushing buttons and pulling hair out with automation. Do both realms always have to occur at once?
Why yes dear, and children are born daily never knowing a mothers or fathers love.
Ah but what is love in a society with no tea party?
Strata emails automated, schemes hammered in. Navigational Aid in permanent port location hacked repeatedly.
The tea party is how we out now, remember mi amore.
A friendly dance to death, from what was deemed beyond a mess. From who had the power to do the talking, and the walking.
Not a friendly neighbor greeting another at the door.
A way to bare, make everyone exposed.
Time for more tea dear?
No my love, time for more bombs to explode.