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.