6:30AM

folding paper perfectly for trash photo by Glorypearl Dy

On cue, an eminent chant
almost a song “Palitao, Banana, Puto”,
a reverberating sound from the Mosque,
a quintessential bell from the Church.
The same minute
a baby cries,
a woman moans,
an old woman next door
brings her coffee to the gate,
and alone, she holds the railing anticipating a celestial phenomenon.

Around those minutes,
the heater boils water,
my cup anticipates your milk,
the heat rekindles a memory – there was a first time–
But these minutes feel prime.

This early,
a Maria expects a carpool,
a June steps into a jeep,
Danny rides off to Buda,
Lani is already calling some media men,
the trash boy collects
those papers you folded perfectly.

There is an event, systematic for all random life
This hour is more of less; and less of more
more of emotion,
less for the motion,
typical defines their activities,
sporadic is ours.

There might be other people.
But I'm just sure I'd say it was you.
Natural effort
can convince
us to continue as firsts
despite the noise
behind our neck–

In this moment
young couples trace fingers,
Ted files for annulment,
your Tatay dies, your Nanay cries,
an unnamed man gets drunk,
everyone carries uniform faces,
two of them have two lovers,
three are alone with–
I could be lonely like them.

But I want to be in your arms
not for fear of loneliness.So let
me fill myself with you
My cup overflows

There might be other people.
But I'm just sure I'd say it still was you.

please also check my other blog Presentation Animation