kayumanggi is brown
you may not have noticed
the name of this busy
spot, tucked in a corner
where goodbyes
are as warm as the coffee
or as cold as the drinks
we are in-between:
clenching teeth
we have began the journey
of distancing
lest we lost ourselves
in the fire that burns
the selves
we speak of half-truths
the possibility of half-lies
the need to protect pain
how many times have we confronted
hearts that do not lie?
are they merely the thighs
or the hands that groped
for the substance of our beings?
or is it something that
made these connections
possible, as in breathing
so natural?
we read each other:
through the gentle pull of
your small fingers
intertwined into mine
in an instinct of survival
we are drowning into each other:
your touch echoes those days
those sleepless nights
i teased you a lot:
the bag lady who charms
limping sophistication
the eight-hour woman
whose need to dream
will have to begin with earplugs
hundreds of stories
have passed this table
we are no different
we speak, slowly
measuring words
that can be taken away
into the cabin of memories
closures are also openings
and what we close merely
lead us into paths unknown
i take risk, you enjoy the adventure
in between this kinship
are women-travelers searching
for new meanings, new ways
of loving and living:
the uncommonness of the common
the grand vision of an ordinary
feeling like what we have
we do not have words for them
what we have, have been perfected
by the commonness of words
so we construct
but as quickly, we dismantle them
i suppose we are here for closures
the styrofoam cup
is hardly a romantic way
to drink our last
Aida Santos
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/international-airport/
