I leave today behind
in the jeepney
like snakeskin.
i leave it
in the blur of city lights
and hair waving like flags.
i leave it
in the sway
of sleeping strangers’ heads,
in the noise of traffic
drowned
by the still silence
of passengers—
skin to skin
we still carve spaces
between each other.
the engine
thrums and roars
underneath the seats,
a steady heartbeat
and like infants
we surrender freely.
when you are lonesome
it’s easy to find safety
in the silence
of strangers
and easier to spill past selves
into the highway
to leave them,
in the black smoke
and sea of headlights
and come bare and clean
into bed
close to midnight.
the wind can wash
almost anything away.
Ma. Theresa Jabar is a student from Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan.