Rush Hour
By 5:30 my thoughts start rushing towards you. Like school kids at the sound of the bell, they flew past the door at the speed of light. They join the throng of over-worked, under-paid employees. All of them are just thankful that the day is over. There is food on the table. There is a bed waiting at home. Tomorrow, we will do this all over again. But my thoughts are sparkles of light amongst the mob. Always hopeful. Always dreaming.They don't mind the congested roads of Makati or the muddy streets of Pasay. They don't care about the traffic or the rising fare. They don't see the kid carrying another kid giving people envelopes as if the coins they get can save them from the wrath of an abusive, alcoholic father. All of that are not real. All of that are forgotten.
As soon as my thoughts nestled on the curve of your shoulders and neck, all the grisly stuff is just a dream.
