His neighbor threw him a cellophane bag o’ large fish innards,
his dog surveyed the treasure.
He started smelling it and then he saw it. His other neighbor
Had a new stereo set from Saudi Arabia and it played a load
of love songs loud for the
Whole subdivision to divine—So he sat at his 2nd-hand PC
with a dirt-cheap CD drive
And played his own brand of intelligentsia rock, but another
neighbor’s jeepney parked right
In front of his house with its own splendid car stereo, its reply-
sound of quick cymbals and drums
Transforming the subdivision into a sophisticated community.
This was a day in the democratic life of the poet from his
imagined tower, from where he
Wondered when a neighbor’s jeepney parked at his window
won’t fume a morning rage of
Diesel smell on his breakfast, from where he thought of
emigrating to lands where the people
Play not their properties at each other, morning lands where
maybe people won’t spit at complaints.
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