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Anais Vionet Sep 2022
It’s Sunday morning. It’s bright and cool, the sort of fall morning that makes the world’s problems seem like fake news. Peter and I are at the Marriott Courtyard, off campus. This morning’s breakfast is Peter’s 19th birthday present to me.

I’m redorkulously happy and surprisingly hungry. Somewhere, in the noisy, happy sounding kitchen, there's a bacon, cheddar-cheese, tomato, ham, green-pepper, and spinach omelette being convoked in my name, and my tummy is growling in anticipation.

Our waiter brought us large white mugs of nutmeg coffee - God bless her for that. Sipping it, I scanned the dining room, where carefree, normal people were enjoying their brunches. They didn’t look like they had hours of reading and problem-sets (homework) waiting for them later - but who knows?

Peter leaned forward, smiling, to refill my mug and then, when adding some cream, he almost overfilled it. I couldn’t help chuckling. I enjoy this awkward man’s company beyond all sanity, to the point that it’s a little cringy and embarrassing. Our smiles seemed to clang together, like symbols. I wish I could bask in the warmth of that smile all day.

“You could do me a favor,” I say shyly, “a little extra present?” I said, trying to look pitiable.
“What?” he asks, with a skeptical look. I open my bag and pull out my latest physics PSET (a homework problem set).
“This problem haunted me in my dreams last night,” I say, smoothing out the wrinkled paper and rotating it so it was right-side-up for him. “#6,” I said, confirming that with a pointing finger.

He glances at it. “Ahh, classical mechanics?” he guessed. “Right,” I confirmed.
He looks up at me through his bushy, blue-black eyebrows, “You took AP physics one in high school and physics 2 last year?” He asked. “Yeah,” I confirmed, “but this problem is throwing me.”

“Well,” he says, motioning me to hand him my pen, “you’re perspicacious all right, but you’re basically a biology major,” he begins, “a set of studies that involve a memorization mentality. For physics one and two, I bet you memorized Maxwell's laws, the Kinematic equations and the table of equation cases, ya?”
I nodded yes.

“Unfortunately, that’s not going to cut it here,” he says, shaking his head, “All of those nice simplifications aren’t in play here - there are no cases to rely on - it’s derive as you go.” As he explained this he was briskly scribbling something on a paper napkin and the answer was there, on that, a second later, when he rotated the paper back to me.

His eyes are a dark, gingerbread brown, but despite that darkness, they seemed warm and lit from within. A swoop of his dark blue-black hair has fallen across his forehead, I leaned over the small table to tuck it back into place. “Thank you,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief, “did you show your work?” I asked as I folded the paper and napkin away.
“Of course,” he says, amused, “but we’ll review it later,” he assured me.

“Happy birthday ME!” I said, in a whispered cheer.
“Yes,” he grinned, “Happy Birthday, YOU,” he pronounced as our omelettes arrived
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Perspicacious: “the keen ability to understand difficult or amorphous things.”

Redorkulously = so ridiculous it’s dorky
Isabela Aragon Feb 2016
I hate you.

I hate you because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and what I believe I need. Whenever I stare into your eyes, I see clarity. I see what’s good for me, and what my heart yearns for.


I hate you because I can’t stay away from you, no matter how many times you push me away. You could shove me off and take me for granted, and I’d still stay because it will always be your safe embrace I’d want to return to at the end of the day.


I hate you because only you have the capacity to make me feel the way you do – as if all the butterflies were convoked to enter my stomach and find a permanent home there. The words to express how happy you make me have not been created. You are my favorite notification among the many that incessantly buzz my phone, and nothing else matters as soon as your name pops up.


I hate you because I’m willing to fight for you, even though I’m already losing the battle. They could tell me countless times how I deserve better, but I don’t want better because I want you.


I hate you because you could break my heart a thousand times, and I’d willingly go through a thousand more if it meant a shot of becoming yours.


I hate you because I’ll never get tired of choosing you. Even if you won’t choose me.


I hate you (but I hate myself more for it).
Sunshine Tibod May 2018
Countless faces in front of me,
belief and trust they’ve given me,
words of wisdom they’ve evoked,
spirits of my fear they’ve convoked.

Numerous failures I have encountered,
mistakes I have committed,
cloaked my sufferings,
left unshown on my face.

Always, I question myself,
who am I to believe upon?
I am confused,
I am in doubt.
Singing out loud like Lady Gaga
Expecting not you’ll yell ulalalah!
For me it’s just a ‘lil shalalalah!
For others it’s a big bwahahahah!

Blaming all the way is just so unfair
You don’t even know the whole & real affair
I hope you’ve witnessed my odd nightmare
So you’ll also feel what’s to be in there!

“Crucify!” is what you wanna shout
Not even knowing what it’s all about
Forgive me if we weren’t on the same route
Can’t blame you for your…ah?...uhm?...doubt

Here I am – the abhorred & ******
For whose mistakes are convoked & summed
In painful agony being condemned
Beaten, battered, stunned & slammed

Who is like our Chief Justice?
Crowned with thorns of royal malice
Scourged at the pillar of public displease
Carrying the cross to the realm of no peace

Who is the devil’s advocate?
Who is willing to reprobate?
Who planted so much hate?
Whose vengeance cannot wait?

Now, laugh at my calamity
Lick my blood…it’s so tasty
You want to unleash the devil in me?
Here!...It’s free!...towards your body!

Behold the shadow blocking the sun
So spectacular – startling everyone
Now, who’s the devil daring to shun
The one who knows Proverbs 28:21?

-05/21-22/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Painful Poems Collection
My Poem No. 122

— The End —