Prosti & Snoman

Poetry by | March 30, 2008

In Boracay it’s Christmas
all year round, or at least
it’s always in anticipation
of some windfall from a white
fat guy, bearer of gifts: dresses,
perfume, jewelry, dinner, cash –
hopefully tagged with a clause
to marry in the future. For now
she needs to be naughty and nice,
play with him in the water,
be like the sea and lap him up;
he’ll have to buy her a halo-halo
to cool the hot elf down –
tearing open the presents for later.
For now he wants to stroll up
and down this wintry wonderland
(or at least she wonders if his snow
is any finer than her white sand);
she clings to the elbow of this man-tree,
the top of which she’d like to crown
with a star – later when he goes down.
For now she strains her legs to keep up
with him, walking on tiptoe to keep
her stilettos from sinking in the sand.

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