the last dance in Binondo

Chinese merchants hollered their selling pitch
like a morse code invitation
as this Binondo alley became a stage
where our feet would shuffle imperfectly
to the rhythm of the business district's jeers

undecipherable language loomed like algorithmic puzzle
which I drowned with a hum
a Bacharach song on your ears
(their persistence erupting in tiptoeing intonation)

symmetrical slide to the left
her eyes fluttered like butterflies
in the reflection of her glasses,
miniature Buddhas eyed us suspiciously
a commotion in my chest, another sway
and I worry
electricity will surge uncontrollably
for the ground is damp

like an aging, unaxed lumber
I have nothing but splinters and lost hope in my pocket
but we swayed,
ushering a new dawn on your setting sun
and the promise of wet lips when we find home





(September 21, 2011)