Kambal Cliche

Gabi na naman ng mga librarian. Itinakda ng punong librarian na kumuha kami ng cliche ng pag-ibig at paglaruan ito, baka sakaling maging tula. Kaya ayun, napabaka-sakali tuloy nang di oras.

Sana dalawa

Sana dalawa ang puso ko
Para dalawa silang iibig sa iyo

Hindi ko alam kung nagustuhan nila iyon. Malamang hindi kasi hindi pa ako humihingi ng permiso, piunayagan na nila akong maghanap ng isa pang cliche. Hindi ko rin alam kung nagustuhan nila ang kinalabasan ng ikalawang pagpili kasi umalis ako agad pagkatapos bigkasin ang tula.

Isang Salita

sinabi mo na
kaya’t sabihin mo pa
pabulong at paihip at palagi
na ibibigay mo ang lahat

halimbawa
ang inipit mong pilik-mata
ang nilunok mong dighay halimbawa
ang iyong mga kinupkop
mula sa paghihinuko
ang hindi mo maisuko
sa regla bilang halimbawa

ipagpalagay na nating lahat
at ibulong mo pang “ibibigay”

halimbawa
maliban sa buwan at suntok
maliban sa tala at tadhana
maliban sa daigdig at ikot

bukod pa sa hangin
dahil aking tatanggapin

kada alikabok na ipit
sa kada kulubot ng iyong siko
isa-isa sa sari-saring lansa ng iyong pawis
kada patak
ng iyong hindi pa yumayaong kandila

hanggang magpantay-pantay
ang bawat titik sa nag-iisang tunog
ang la
at ha
at hat

hanggang magniig patungong tuldok
at mahalo sa paglaho
ang kumpleto mong handog

hanggang wala nang “ni isa”
at walang matira
at wala ka na

maliban sa palagi at palaging iihip
na hindi mo ako mahal
at hindi mo ako kailanmang minahal

Mmm-Bop: The Trouser Song

They tell me it's bound to get ugly. They tell me I still have time to back out, don't rush into these things. Because these things will prove to be one irrevocable decision after another.

Whenever I hear the word ugly I remember Khojee, da man. I remember his long afternoon.

Khojee's not ugly, facewise. But you know how these things go. I'm not allowed to call him pretty. He was earrings and muscles, was bad genie laughter and a bald head. We loved him as far as love can go in the sergeants' circle of the old university. We loved him even if we never saw him coming, and even if he always popped out of nowhere right into the middle of the tambayan, grabbing one of us by the trousers - usually the thin Mosqueda - and shouting: Gang Rape!

Then we would each grab a limb, in earnest, so that he could rub his knee into Mosqui's groin - or that of anyone of us - and we could then chant Children of the Corny: Gang Rape Gang, Gang Rape Gang! And he could then ullulate.

Then we would be satiated and play magic cards or rehash boy bawang jokes or listen to Khojee detail the latest H-wood object of his masturbation ask Mosqui how life was with a penis as broad and as short as a can of Maling. One day, late in the morning, we were bad-mouthing his penis when Mosqueda got so damn piqued that he threatened to unzip. So Khojee signalled Gang Rape Gang though as far as we were concerned he didn't have to, we were already up and grasping, and Mosqui never wore his pants hiphop style ever since the passing of that day.

Khojee wore hiphop himself, wore it long after most of us gave up on the fashion, wore it loose and low even after I warned him that a stupid Manuela mall-rat was posing hip-hop when he busted his head by challenging a yuppie to a fight in the middle of the food court. The yuppie raised his fists, boxer style, and the Manuela hiphopstah delivered a high kick. His own seams were his undoing. The flight of the right leg pulled the low pant-leg up and snatched the left leg off the ground, wham! Went the head.

But Khojee was da man, and I was still thinking of Kierkegaard with his two horses, one heavenward another earthbound. And the man in the chariot getting torn to pieces.

So Khojee was in his hip-hop get-up, his waist superfluous with abs and belts and chains when he popped up one afternoon. Because he found Mosqueda absent, he said we'd postpone the rape although he was so horny because of this new girl he saw in an MTV, a Claire Danes look-a-like and boy would he like to teach that girl the difference between a daisy and a rose.

Rose. Uh-ohs. We asked him if he'd jacked off already. He said of course, oh god why would he pass her up? He's seen the video several times. He heard the song once standing up on the bus and began rubbing his member on the pole, never mind the sidewise glances of the driver! I was about to ask him how many times he saw the video when Mosqui suddenly appeared and asked Khojee: "You know why Taylor Hanson's flat-chested?"

"Because she's a kid, stupid," Khojee said.

"Because he's a boy, like his brothers in the Hanson brothers who are also as boys as brothers go," Mosqueda said.

He chanted Gang Rape Gang, and I'm willing to bet it was the longest afternoon in Khojee's life, and no one in the sergeants' circle ever wore hip-hop style again. And no one kept in touch after graduation.

Beatitude of the Moment

Blessed are the judgmental
For in this instant they know
They count not among the blessed

Emo Trip

At the outset, I should say that this is not my story and will never be my story. This must be said with a healthy dose of vehemence, and maybe only the fly register can serve the purpose of caveat to the hilt: this is so not my story.

As in.

Once there was a couple, the usual hetero, and the girl was in the red so the guy had to content himself with the capitals B and J. They were the wild type, doing the do everywhere but on the bed. There were sheets all over the house but no underwear. Neither of them bothered with underwear unless they had to work or go out to buy some food.

The do. Guy did it for the fun. Girl did it for the exercise. Of course they say it's for love. Three permutations of speaking the love-word apply to them. Before the deed, it's beg. During, it's shout. After, it's whisper. It's the panting, the moaning, and the foreplay: love. A fly syllable. Of course.

It was not their first time with the red. They've had months between them. They've accumulated hours of tongue, so to speak. But in this particular hour, this "once," the guy tried for the throat, past the palate and down the uvula. Or maybe it was the girl who sought the good choke. These are lost details.

What they did not forget is that the girl began to vomit and the guy held fast her nape when it happened because he found it warm. And the girl vomitted some more because she liked him holding fast.

They were all laughter and hoots in the showers. Cheers all around!

They took some of that celebratory spirit to bed and, without knowing it, they fell asleep at exactly the same time. They also did not know that they shared a minute before sleep and it was a minute of wondering. The girl thought: Would he like us to do that again? Would I?

The guy thought: Did she swallow?