Wind in my face
                                   The Amihan
Squeeze of my buttocks to my soft chair
                           An airline chair
              A dog flowing through the meadow
    Was that my garden rooster
                                  Or is it another's?
      I wiggle my toes
           Outbreath; Air blowing
                                          Out my mouth
        Did Rizal meditate?
                          Fried chicken in my nose
         My nose is in that restaurant in Pampanga
              Did Jesus meditate?
        What is the purpose of a flower?
                                Is the scar on my leg my death?
Telescoping ache from my spine
                     Ticklish pressure in my bladder
                                   More wind; The Habagat
          In Tagaytay with friends. The white fog
              Am I being mindful now?
              Watch your breath!
                                My forearm is empty
                                          It doesn't exist
                                          It doesn't exist

We may postulate till abortion becomes our birthright. It's tenfold 100. But that ain't the total girlfriend experience nor the girlfriend as experienced in her totality. Her mystical & whimsical demeanor moshes no make-up/mark-up in Cebu, in Bacolod, in Pampanga. I can't cough up a hocker to the radon enigma as it's too enigmatic to compare with phlegm or phlegmatic, productive cough-ups tinged red.

My lover & I danced in the garden like a crook who just got a pardon. Tuck it under like you did in Pampanga, to make it hurt like a strapped back put-on. Women don't dance on power lines. People do stupid things, expecting me to watch while I do stupid things that no one wants to watch.