Manila Airport Chronicle II

In an airport
You are in a sort
Of purgatory

Occupying the space
Between here and
There, up and down,
Left and right,
Disowned and
Belonging

It’s lonely to come
To an airport and
No one is there to
Meet you

I head to the exit
With my 2 companions
Whose complexions
Of skin are like mine
But complexion of
Tongue a bit different

The people at the
Gates hold signs with
Names scribbled
Across:

Simon
Mr. Samuels
Brian

I decided to be
Brian as I headed
Towards the exit

I see faces, none
Of whom I know but
Whose shadows I have
Seen in another time
Zone casting similar
Shades of shade

We head towards a
Row of taxis

A cab driver says
Something to
Me in Filipino

I’m with him, I
Say, pointing to
My companion

The cab driver,
Who looks like a
Boxer, turned away,
Looked at another
Taxi driver and said,
“Americans”

(Scanned again, haha)

I think about where I
Was born, Frisco born
And bred

We finally get into
A cab and arrive
At the hotel

A face in the lobby
Recognizes me

A Frisco face
A Frisco Filipino face
A Friscopino face whose
Face is a mirror of a
Thousand Manila nights
A thousand Frisco nights

He walks up to
Me, we hug

It’s good to see
A homeboy, he
Says

Before turning to
The bellhop, telling
Him something I
Couldn’t understand

(C) 2017 Tony Robles.

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