this was when the el
trains along EDSA started
running.
i don't recall where we
planned to go-
Crossing? no, Ayala.
(whatever)
all I remember is you,
your eager thighs
bristling under your
jeans, loose, scratchy,
everytime you lean into
me.
this whenever the yet
unbroken trains
dip and lurch along the tracks.
this was today, this morning,
while waiting for my toast
and eggs in a cold diner.
I stifled a smirk
(no bitterness here)
when trying to remember,
to realize, how timeworn,
how old hat, what really
happened between
us-
you met someone else?
no, I grew tired of you?
(whatever)
what stunned me was the
tenacity of the memory
of your body against mine,
still hearty, substantial still
to my existence now
like a greasy breakfast
to that house painter in fraying
flannels, flecked cargos
all alone by the counter
chilling for some down
time, recharging,
before slogging it back
to the flatness of surfaces.