By:  Garland Davis


Jeepneys roar by the outside,

The bar is dim in the gut of the Barrio,

Out the back, water wrinkles the moon’s reflection,


I call for more San Miguel,

She pulls her chair closer and her hand caresses me,

Then comes the litany of “Buy me drink?”

Her hand moves closer to my being,

I shrug, “Why not.” And ask, “How much bar fine?”


Come, Mister Goody Two Shoes,

Sit across the table and tell me why I don’t belong here,

Where instead should I go?

I’ve been here and did this so long,

I don’t want more, this is the life I love.