closer

her ash brown hair fell to her shoulders, framing her face. her walk, hurried but unapologetic. we knew she'd be late. us already seated in the table for four looked at her as if suddenly the world narrowed and everything else was blurred and she alone was distinct. the color of her hair, her breasts against the soft bronze blouse, that big brown bag slung over a shoulder carelessly, legs moving in a purposeful dance. her closest closest's fingers paused in mid sentence, the phone waiting for the love making of his words. his body leaned towards the table, his lips slightly pouting. i imagined him already consoling her. they have always been like that- their love best expressed in their silence. i imagined they have only begun to discover each other.

to my right sat the constant man in my life, and in so many ways, in hers too. he had a smile, the kind that only good friends can give. he noticed how her breasts seemed more pronounced. that's how he told us no matter what crossroads we find ourselves in, we will always have a good laugh.

she passed by the carousel. for a fraction of a moment the lights burned her soft brown eyes. i waited for her like a child would for the balloon man. there was so much to tell her.

the six year itch

the morning came so soon. the light filtered through thick curtains - the minstrel of my sadness. he pretended he's asleep. but how could people like us sleep- when there's too little time, too few spaces where we could be.

i peered over his shoulder, kissed his cheek. i knew that that morning, the first and the last we'd have together would soon fade, like ripples- outward, lost like it never was. but i knew too little then of the depth of my tragedy. in my mind's eye i would always see his bare shoulder illumined by filtered light, his eyes shut too tight holding back the morning. over and over i would breathe in the scent of his skin, the scent of goodbye. there is no unlearning the taste on my lips, the scent of his skin.

3D echo

"will i see you on saturday?" my poet asked me. he's throwing a freedom party for himself. he finally quit his job to, in his words "pursue a calling".

he used to call me his muse. the wind that blew inspiration into his ears, the tide that ripped against the jagged rocks, the foam that left him wanting.

he was my very own neruda- isolating my emotions in the cusp of his hands, away from my practicality. and then when his words were done with me, scatter my very essence into a void.

yet as i think of him, it is not him i see. the void in me grows. these hands remember the smoothness of another's skin, the landscape of another's body. face, shoulders, arms, belly, navel, legs stretched the length of my own.

cold water surrounds me. i float. i drift. strong arms pull me, wraps my feeble arms around his waist. "don't let me go."

my fingers run the length of his spine. i shiver, knowing exactly what to do and knowing exactly why not. he pulls me closer.

he is kissing me. nourishing me by this alternate reality. and yet i am weakened by the thought of our parting.

i am lost in the dark pools of his yearning. i wander aimlessly, pursuing a glimmer of false hope. stubborn. arms not feeble embrace him. feeling the smoothness of his skin, dying in his kiss.

my freedom, unlike yours, my dear poet, is drowning in an ocean - crashing against jagged cliffs, breaking and diminishing each time in washed out foam.

kill the girl

i wanted to wring her neck and stab the upperbase of her spine with my pen. the train, as usual was jam packed at 8:30 am. and as it's summer, no amount of airconditioning could compete with human heat. and i know about human heat, several personality changes ago. but i digress. i knew better than to complain, this being one of the most crowded cities in the world. chickens in a coup have wider spaces.

what irked me was that she was stupid. yes, stupidity inspires the samurai-wielding crazed person out of me. she was infront of me and had she beenn just a little considerate, she could have fit into that wedge in the middle of the train where the vent for the aircon was. she did not budge. worse, she blocked me from ever claiming that wedge. idiot. idiot!

trapped between two burly men, a dwarf behind me (the woman scared the hell out of me) and that idiot infront, i tried to distract myself from my wrath. the world has enough of hate already. a 10 minute train ride with stupid shouldn't be as unbearable.

but it was. argh!

so i thanked good genes for making me a foot taller than most mere mortals. the air was easier to breathe when the nostrils weren't an inch away from some strange men's necks or worse, nipples. disgusting.

i remembered what bro told me. that he would buy an ocean. other rich men have their beaches or islands. he, would have his own ocean. well, i just wanted to be out of that cramped space.

i could have blamed government for not imposing population control. or for not buying enough trains or for not widening highways. but i did not. i could have wished to get out of this third world country. but i did not.

a friend who recently missed a roundabout, presented a very sound counter argument to my proclamation. i said, "my worst fear is to die because of someone else's stupidity. it would be so senseless, because it wasn't even my decision that would do me in. i'd hate myself for eternity." the great il duce said, "but everything is your choice. where you are at the time of your death would be a choice you would make."

aha. too deep for a 10 minute train ride. and in my head, i've already bashed stupid girl's head against the train's glass doors, pulled her hair as i stepped out and held her bent over like that until the doors closed. she of course wouldn't die but would suffer neck cramps for life.

saturday afternoon random thoughts

a house in the country. that's what they need. the pollution in this city air clogs up their arteries too fast and they become irritably nosy. yes, a house in the country. in the middle of a field. i can leave him to his boulder size sweet potatoes and papayas- green and orange in the midday sun. and she, with the carpentry, the plumbing, the chickens and the pruning. i will leave them both where i wouldn't have to see them everyday and still be guiltless about it.

"aren't you late for class already?" i changed from HBO to CNN. the pope is dead. "what do all those people want? that he'd live forever? the man couldn't speak audibly anymore (makes gurgling, rasping sound- mocking the wrinkly pink pope)." i kept at the channel a while longer than i intended. travel might do them good. they are so closed minded. prejudice, intolerance, bigotry.

yes. ship them off to... nah. too expensive. i should just slave myself to save up for their retirement. darn! they are retired! is it monday already after tomorrow? ugh. i need a vacation. a real one. away from them. away.

sweet potatoes. they make you fat and fart. i gagged myself to stop laughing. perhaps i am a part of the couch. an extension, an alternate ego. yeah. the one with feelings. numb, yes. but aware of things. hey! get your feet off me! dirty non-washer of feeet! shoo cat! i'm not your scratch post. you don't have a scratch post. hehehehehe. duh. your ass is too big. hehehehehe. sweet potatoes.