i ventured out to visit a church in the far northern Nova
and to visit a farther church in the newborn Bagong Silang

and later i would return to my home
the lowly pub of Tacio
in the ruthless, wondrous Cubao

pero nakakagago ang trapik
isang oras sa quirino
lima sa perbyu
isang milyong mga naghihintay
sa ilang milyong mga vios

but who am i to complain
i had a good seat on an airconditioned bus
and a front seat on a jeepney

kung di lang mabaho sa harap
perpekto na sana
isang paa ako sa kalye
handa nang tumalon at makalimutan ng drayber

the whole country was in cold rain
colder than any winter
anyone could've imagined
the foreigners would agree with me;
the ones in the malls didn't have red skin
and they looked like they were glad to finally wear the clothing they were destined to wear

pati si ate nagbebenta ng basahan
naka pang ski
akala mo bakasyon sa estados

i didn't have a good prior week
medicine failed me
i had an itch in my head
i couldn't write anything
i felt my angry filipino palaboy scream out passionately for beer and conquest

kung beer lang pala
sa expo nalang ako nanatili
pero 85 para sa serbesa negra
walang coaster walang mani
mas mura pang pumunta ng nova
at maghanap ng beer dun
may extra pa pambili ng pang sigang

i am not particularly religious
but i loved the old church
inside the market
and all of it's ironies

ingay ng power drill
budots at kpop
presyong divisoria
sampu sampu
bente trenta
at iba pa

it emanated all around such a holy place
and as much as it saddened me
i had nostalgia for the sound of the busy city
echoing inside a cathedral

pina alis ni kristo ang mga nagbebenta sa loob ng tahanan ng kanyang itay
pero nanatili ang kanilang mga boses
mga sigaw

diretso ako sa sakayan papuntang Philcoa
sa harap ulit ng jeep
naisipan kong umuwi nalang
ngayong nabisita ko na ang talipapa
hindi pa puno ang mga upuan pero diretso na rin si kuya drayber
pagkat mahina pa ang ulan at trapik

i often think during the noisy silence of rain
and this time i thought
about the lengths i would go to
just for escape
for inspiration

beer and conquest i thought

bakit ko nga pala ginawa to?
sa tingin ko'y tinamad na kong magdusa sa loob ng bahay
mas nasipagan pa kong mamasyal sa ulan
naghihintay ng kaginhawahan sa kalye

sa tingin ko'y naintindihan ako ng jeep
at ang kanyang pagkinig ay ala masahe sa aking likod

the jeep understood me
and so did the ride
there was little traffic
and the rain was softer than before

and in that massage i received from the seat of a rumbling jeepney
was meditation

sa lahat ng byahe ko
ang aking isip ay palaging sa labas ng bintana
madalas natin ginugugol ang ating dilat sa pagdaan ng mundo
sa kapaligiran ng ulan
sa lamig ng ating balat

"in all of my travels
my mind is always outside of the windows
we often spend our sights on the passing of the world
the presence of rain
the cold on our skin"

i haven't thought of that before

di ko pa naisip yun ah

masulat nga

and i took a piece of receipt paper out of my coat pocket
and the rain did not tamper it

the rain is soft
the wind is brisk
the traveler feels the world once again

and he wrote down
for the first time
in weeks

masahe sa harap ng jeep

It is good to get lost at Edapally junction
in that sea of people in the bus bay in front of emmanaul silks
to be exact, I could get lost in any part of kerala
it is the same to me ,kozhikode, thrissur or cochin
I am a foreigner
And i have adapted.
why ?
Why ,you may ask
why this indifference to one's own mother
simply because you cannot abandon your mother though you grew up in an orphanage
So goes for these places
I did not choose my mother
nor did I choose my native land
and I cannot orphan them
can I ?
I am familiar with some places now
As new memories are made
I remember places now
I remember fort kochi for the lanes sloshed in whisky and dreams
i remember vypin for small truths
I remember vytilla for heartbreak and pain
I remember wellington for incessant talk and friends
I remember calicut for numerous crossroads and junctions and restrooms
I remember thrissur for art and molestation
i do remember places now for each memory made
it was not like this for the place I grew
I know the temple and the paddy field
and the people in each house
like the woman on Google maps announcing each turn and curve
I would say this where I smashed the neatly piled red bricks with my lady bird bicycle
or take a turn in that alley and say this where I buy coloured glass bangles
Or take a left here ,this is where I light lamps filled with ghee fasting and in obeisance to devi
It is all vivid ,perfect with no doubts
and everything is doubtful in my own land
And then ,I decided to get lost at Edapally
sorry if I am geographically wrong

I stopped my car at the highway
Amongst the water logged fields
Overgrown with white lilies
my driver looked displeased
how could one waste travel and money
until then I had counted minutes and seconds
Of anticipated moments of security boarding and baggage
and now I stopped here at angamali  a nowhere
and watched my flight overhead
What now he looked anxiously
let's take a detour
I said
and yelled at the plane
"I don't care "
I want to get lost
And switched off all accountability

He dropped me at Edapally junction
And i stood still in that movement
a flood of people
fear engulfed me
the airconditioned air filled my mind
a fake cherry tree with cotton and red  glitter paper stood staring
People moved in with money and came out with loads
sweat, dreams, monotony, laughter expectations ,new hopes and hopes  dangling in the bus bay
some comfort now ,I stood hugging my Adidas coat
I did not know where to look and was whirling around in small circles
when I felt being pulled
Your lanky arm
I was here trying to get lost
And here you were pulling me back
I walked with big steps trying to dodge you and hoping to disapper
And then it started to pour
I did not know which was louder
the rain or your anger
your knuckles white
is this why they call white with fury
even the rain seemed white
the cotton hung wet and the cherry Tree seemed drained
but language seemed fine
you drove
I walked
and it rained
it was perfect to get lost

I have never seen a happier face
than his
and he was dirt poor
ignorant
or was he
came right out the mountains stinking
as bad as any badger or ****
had dirt caked from months
not bathing
and his smile was great as Mona Lisa's
happy and I reflected
in his lingering
essence
long after his smell left
out the airpipes airconditioned stuffy
surrounds I had become
encumbered with

To taste the red burst of rippened tomatoes
that catch a summer's glee whose
shouts run down airconditioned malls of daffodils
to reach butterscotch ends

To catch naive dewdrops on their final wave
-- gleeful regardless of their fleeting demise
on leaffy budettes as they hitchhike on blushing shins
that touch for just a second

To receive the cricket's call
and hang on their every word like
how the stars do on the night sky velvet
hung taut to stop the dreamer's upward freefall

To reverbrate down hymns
and ***** pipes whose rust subdued
by caramel oaken spirits and
cigars rolled with rebellion

To watch the twinkle of eyes
that unroll before me cinemated
like the rhythmic  popping of corn seeds
and the anticipation of childlike hands

To surf the last yawn and sigh
whose ebb and flow crash on
pristine beds -- that soothes and prickles the ears
where the mind remains calm and restless

To sit with 4am and drink
tea or coffee (whichever it desires)
and have hours of conversation before
its teary depature

To the pilgrims' call of the first train
The satisfaction of staying vigil
simmers in the insomniac's stovetop
that seems to be low on gas

The need of slumber seems trivial at most
for dreaming has never known the diffrence
between being awake or asleep
or could this just be my mind that flurries
like jackrabbit thumps and heffalump nightmares
and honey dripping down my boyish chin
and mother napkins and lush lullabies
that whisper "go to sleep"

I'm crying
and this time,
not in the way that is asking for attention

This time the intention us unknown
but the reason is known
you are far away from me

Every morning I cross the Rio Guadalquivir
Every morning I
every morning I think of Felix Gonzales-Torres
untitled (Perfect Lovers)

But this time the clocks do not match
The ticking stays the same but the hours pass by differently every moment
here 12 turns to 13
there 4am turns to 5am

the wet cobble stone doesn't help
I slip with every step and my jaw jiggles
because the antibiotics have yet to affect.

the hospital was fun
but only in an ironic way
lights that resembled fans in an un-airconditioned waiting room

the vending machine that sold ham flavored chips for 80 cents
and diet coke for a euro
I had 90 cents

but to make up for it
when my blood work came back
my liver numbers were high

too many gin tonics
because here they drop the "and"

gin tonic, you I

things that go together so well that the "and" is unnecessary