I live in a place of sun but of flood water when it rains too hard
Where you could smell a Sunday noon grilling
milk fish and liempo.
I don’t like people talking behind my back.
Just blocks away from Our Lady of Fatima Church
Outside our window, the low mumblings of the elders
and occasional giddy screams of children.
I dream to be lawyer someday.
We playfully blocked each other on the asphalt street
playing afternoon, sun and moon, never rain.
I don’t like the idea of being teased or taunted.
It’s always my turn to fool around.
Let us dream we’ve grown much more than we really did
And get married.
Run about back and forth the ends of our street
Sex is not just a fantasy running in our heads
to the tips of our hair.
On an afternoon of sun and breeze,
We return in front our apartment
Sweating like the plastic of Coca-cola and straw
Enjoying the view of pink bougainvilleas as we think about hopia.