current music: mmm... still Mata - Mojofly


it's raining. it's already 8:17 AM and it's almost as dark as if it were 8:17 PM. I love it. :)

Desire

The street-sweeper patrols the sidewalk
taking with his broom the many things
people let go of, left behind.

There's the dust that covered the floor
like a dark, rich, thick cloth
shed from the skin of so many.

There are cigarette butts,
wrapped balls of gum; he knows
they felt lips of those who ignore him.

He wonders of identity.
For example, the plastic cup
with pink lipstick on the edge

or the strands of hair,
the broken heel of shoes, and
the lost lens that touched someone's eyes.

Could she be pretty?
Could she be rich?
This I would love to see.

He collects what others sweep away;
it is an ever-unfinished jigsaw puzzle
of someone, somewhere.

He takes them in a broom, carries them in a pan.
Later he will leave them in that green bin
for safekeeping, for giving away, for letting go.


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dammit. ang hihirap ng mga assignment na 'to.