Sunday, February 28, 2010

VIGNETTE III: CAROLOTAN, FINALLY



The boiled camote is sweeter than the warm cola it was washed down.

Twice we crossed the creek in winding logging roads of old.

Somehow, the presence of intelligence officers with low IQs flashed back memories of broken bodies thrown off vintage choppers.

But unlike Kasibu and Ambaguio, you’re no longer a stranger as my warm pee pierced your hard mountain soil.

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