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Thunder Sandwich #23 |
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Jeffrey Thompson |
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Forgive Me We've been married for four months and now my Filipina bride is missing home She cries at night when she thinks I'm asleep She's missing the Tricycles and jeepneys riding to work on busy narrow streets where boys with wooden trays around their necks sell gum and cigarettes like nightclub girls from the past She's missing dried fish mango bagoon buko The smoke stacks that explode black death into the harbor horizon as the sun sets with rage over Zamboanga City She's missing the families dirt floor home were water is carried up by hand every day from Lunzuran River Where windows are holes cut out of the bamboo wasl Where a bed is a blanket on the floor and doors aren't locked at night Where sleeping in the afternoon is acceptable Where poor is a poor we've never known and still they can laugh with father sitting outside in the warm night drinking rhum and coconut wine with Manong Oscar. I saw it all with my own eyes and was a fool to let her believe that it was better here. |