for us, who do not care

(after Maya Angelou)



be me urchin

seek me shanty in Payatas

or under the LRT



bury me in tattered rugs

and paper blankets at night

while i dream me home

a family to call my own



swim me river defiled by men

whose soul is darker

than the waters of Pasig river



cross me streets of Manila

and breath me air thick

with smoke belched from buses

trucks and jeepneys



collect me garbage

high as a mountain

worst than Augen stables

in rainy days



walk me malls in broad daylight

where courtesans trade their bodies

for six-pence in a day



o give me

what future?

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