ODE TO THE WAS

Weekends.
No phone call? That's odd.
No shipment? That sucks.

Monday.
How EDSA ate my week.
Traffic. Bad? Nothing new.
Staring out the window,
Billboard-watching, thinking,
"That could have looked better if..."
Pioneers to the human U-turn.
Riding that two-stroked engine,
Nothing but irritating.
But back-ride? A lowly adventure.
Roads and slopes in this familiar dwelling.
Getting off the boundary.
Big gate. Small gate.
Side mirror hits the wall.
What big trucks.
Inside, walk with care.
Silence. Darkness. Solitude.
Productivity.

Tuesday.
Repeat lines above.
Except, with friends around.
First batch, second batch.
Someone should be left behind.
Four PM. Canteen?
3-in-1 coffee. Need water.
Fountain-temperature.
Cold. Diluted.
Second-hand smoke.
Conversations.
Real conversations.

Wednesday.
Floor plan, wall paint, lighting.
Fabrics. Wood samples.
Colors, drapes, finish.
Re-order. Re-order. Re-order.

Thursday.
Order.

Friday.
PC? Greenbelt? Kapitolyo?
One rule no matter where:
Not more than one bottle.
Of soda. And of course,
Tales. Of the crypt.

Busy mornings.
Panic afternoons.
Tiresome evenings.
Still, there's life after the day.

The real, the ifs, the dreams ---
How I miss them, but then,
It is not here, not now.
It is there. And now, Was.

Three years.
Homecoming.
Real.
Soon. #