At Gaston Park

a couple is dating, each licking a cone

of ice cream. A simple way of celebrating

their anniversary? Maybe. As doves gather

in front of them searching for leftover

sunflower seeds, waters from the fountain

start swirling its way up into the air.

Then pupils from the nearby kindergarten

arrive. Some opt to playing seesaw.

Others prefer swing, slides and monkey

bars while their nannies are discussing

the latest updates of their idols in showbiz.

At the corner, a poet sits on the Bermuda

grass, scribbling verses on his note.

And while enjoying popping popcorn,

I see the sun’s disappearing act

from everybody’s visions.

Waiting

Until when shall I wait

for your return? The last bus trip

had just left for its destination

the terminal looks like a ghost town.

Crickets start reciting their poems

as street kids converge on the sidewalk

sniffing cellophane with solvent.

While askals celebrate freedom

on the road, scavengers attack

the rotting garbages nearby

salvaging something to be recycled

or be sold to the junkshop

then left without a trace

leaving around used sanitary

napkins and diapers scattered.

And on my way home, nothing

is heard except Balut vendors’ outcry.

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*Askals means stray dogs.

*Balut is a term for a fertilized developing egg embryo of ducks that is

boiled and eaten from the shell. It is commonly sold as street food in

the Philippines.