A Poem by an Expatriate

THOU SHALL NOT

by Aida B. del Rosario

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