My ramblings....

Some Filipinos I've Met

Romie

You have porcelain teeth
And I can't help smiling when I think about you smiling at me
With your porcelain teeth
And I can't help laughing when you walk by me
And all you can do is sing
Maybe you were born deaf, or taught to verbally ignore me
But it's okay with me that you just sing in strained English
Or whatever language that happened to be
It all seems baffled by your large white teeth
And I can't help biting my lip when you finally talk out loud
Laughter could be taken as offensive, but I can't stop it, even now
Passing from the corners of their eyes, I see the others do the same
You brighten their day in a strange sort of way


Charie

I love you
Written on your hand
Tied up in a hankerchief
You hid it behind blue paisley
You can sit for hours
You can watch much longer
Mad, madder, best
Trying to prove that you're the strongest
I watched your brother leave
You pretended to be distracted
He had a look in his eye
I tried to avoid him
You hide that look well
Instead you have longing
Was that your mother waiting?
Or just another broken woman?
You can sit for hours
You can watch much longer
One moment in the photo
One moment behind the lens
It's a mystery, you say to me
You try and try and try
Sitting by you, I'm listening
To your story telling
One moment I can make you smile
One moment you are fuming
When we climbed into the truck
You came out but wouldn't wave
You can watch for hours
But you cannot wait much longer



Girl at House

"She knows me, she can see my eyes", she said to her mother. She stood on one side of me, very close. I shifted my weight, away, near. She moved to the other side, between Jane and I. She looked at me for a long time. In focus, out, back and forth it was like she was trying to adjust. In her eyes, and out. I wasn't sure where she kept going to. "Three children", Jane told me later. I smiled when she shook my hand. It was limp and wanting. Earlier we met them walking along the path, she had stopped to wash her slippers in the creek and then came, that is when she looked and looked. Maybe, I think now, she was trying to reach me somehow. She wore a large tank and baggy shorts, like most of the girls in the bukid wear. In the city the only wear this for sleeping. Her hair was short, her body soft and hanging. "Pila imong edad?", I blush. "18", she graciously replies. "Not much younger than you", she smiles. We could be friends, she implies, help me, I'm sure that's what she meant. "She's becoming depressed, three fathers come and gone". Oh that's what her eyes told me, when she looked and looked, when she stood close, her stomach aching. Another broken arm reaching.

posted by Unknown @ 5:38 AM