Made the summer go on and on

Processing, and wondering
where the fucking beer is,
why I can't get the song
Moon River out of my head,
how come I still taste
tempura, among other things,
at the tip of this mad tongue.
Waiting for the geckoes
to begin their weather report,
the sun to rise orange-pink
from where we lie on dying grass,
someone to call me Nidia.

Who else in the metropolis
sniggers upon seeing a scooter,
wants to raise hell at 50-peso beer,
can't exactly give an answer to
what happened?

Trying to placate my wanting
of moongazers and sudden torrents,
of Stella the Goat, and bodies born in parts,
of poet-whores and poet's whores,
of Feist and quesadillas,
of the next pun,
of everyone's mumbles in the morning
after a night of the usual alcohol, cigarettes
and "Silliman beach tayo, please?"

Post-Dumaguete Syndrome, tss.
Life-changing, my ass.

(-_-)

-Nabasa mo na yung for tomorrow?
-Uh, Pancake?
-Yes, Butter?
-Saan tayo lunch?
-Hayahay tonight?
-Put a whore in a whorehouse,
how many moves have you got?
-I think it's a love poem.
-Sted's lang ako, bili ng yosi.
-Asan na lighter ko?!
-Khaye, put the beer down.
-This can be stand-up comedy.
-This could be a fiction piece.
-This would work as nonfiction.
-Turn it into a poem.
-Arrr, the Minotaur!!!
-Janina, borrow ng Biodisk?
-Without pants!
-Kever!
- . . . Pa-tay.



All this, among other things.

(This is NOT a poem.)







Screw the internet,
this is a job for fucking longhand.
O blank page, let me cathart!



PS
"I write this with a hardened..." :)
Ahem.
Fuck pride --
Sasha misses y'all.

Love, love.