God (heart) Manila

i walked from gym to home, last night.

energised by the tantric contortions of a late night yoga class, with frozen creamy drink in hand, i walked the busy streets of timog-tomas morato, reciting little poems to myself, singing little ditties, allowing headlights to provide passing spotlight to my singular performance.


i drink in the life of the street.

my poetic show was interrupted intermittently and i pause, without annoyance:

taxis slow down and honk reluctantly like a prospect to a whore; like mr. right or the hottest trick – always there when you don’t want them, nowhere in sight when you’re just wanting to be taken for a ride.

kids in skateboards try out new feats, unaware of the perilous boozy traffic, causing it even. only aware of each others’ ones-up-manship, congratulating and insulting each other in turn.

peddy cab drivers whistle and offer a ride with a smile, like their offers were more than something that involves their legs, almost hinting on an equally sweaty proposition.

my fake dvd dealer waved at me from a distance. running up to me to pitch a convincing spiel that the latest action movie of action stars from a bygone era is fantastic and actually not the shit that it is. i declined with a smile.

a child with flower leis walks up to tell me her sad story, wanting me to buy for a car i don’t own or an icon of a god i don’t believe in. for school, she says. i offered her my drink, she takes it and walks away.

i resume my act whenever i can. the sounds of the street providing accompaniment. cacophonic, discordant, oddly synchronized.

i am one with the life of the street.

and for several moments i can forget that i have to wake up in the morning to earn my keep, that while i am burdened by work – too many in this country can’t find one, that our swat teams don’t have bullet proof vests, that ‘major-major’ has found its way to popular lexicon to an irritating extent, that i am fighting the ills of society to which i am both victim and perpetrator.

i get sad then took comfort in my mother’s faith that i was created in His likeness. and since i love this city, this metropolis, this country – maybe He does, too.