On Leaving Balulang
There I was
A Sunday without a sun
Having a conversation
In footsteps
With the twisting road
Long and tiring, that was how
I thought it would be,
As how I remember it
from all those jeepney rides
I took with someone
Who knew more than just my shame.
Walking on a road
Towards the heart of the city
where no one knew me,
whom the one I love abandoned
For the unknown horizons of Bukidnon.
Along the way, my naked foot
Had accumulated souvenirs:
A thin lace layer of dust, smoke
And tasteless bubblegum
stretching and snapping
like my will.
It must have been a long journey
But don’t really know, can’t really tell:
I was busy
Unhooking the syllable thorns
From the word
“STUPID”
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