2/12/08

A Poem by an Expatriate

. . . . . . . . . .THOU SHALL NOT

Scrutinizing the satellite map of my native
. . . . .town in another continent was like
. . .investigating the crime scene
. . . . .of a teenager's sin

Here once stood the house where my Lolo
. . . . .chastised me with words that started
. . . . .with: Are you a boy or a girl?
when he caught me tiptoeing to my room to
. . . . .check my new hairstyle - the shortest
. . .cut that was, and the most modern
. . . . .outfit I was wearing called

. . . . . . .pedal pushers

Here is the main road to the town proper or
. . .going the other way, out of town to the
. . . . .cemetery - the detour destination
. . . . .for young bicycle riders
. . .on moonlit nights
the same road where I learned to ride a bike
. . . . .an unthinkable act by a well-bred
. . . . .girl; bicycle riding with boys
. . .one moonlight night

. . .Went to confession
. . . . .not sure what commandment was
. . .broken but did penance for disobedience

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .- Aida B. del Rosario



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