strange weather

We’ve got June skies in late March.

What’s up with that?

This is not the summer I was waiting for.

 

I was looking forward to sunshine and beer;

wet, sloppy kisses; sweat and the smell of musk;

exchanging numbers with strangers and regretting it

come the rainy months that follow;

collecting sand in my overnight bag;

two empty bottles of suntan oil; tan lines;

and something to smile about

when I think of the summer of 2013.

 

Instead, the rains have come.

Zero visibility.

There’s no horizon in sight.

Sitting by the window with a lit cigarette

and waiting for signs that I should e-mail you

and ask why I was made persona non-grata

without even a bye-or-leave.

 

The thunder roars; there’s lightning in the distance.

The rains have come and I don’t know why.

What has always been is no longer as it is now.

 

We cannot truly predict the weather.

We’ve destroyed it, somehow, in our mad dash

for a world much like science fiction.

We can communicate with someone twelve hours behind

and thousands of miles away;

we can send shout outs through virtual space,

let it be read by thousands of people in an instant,

type it, click send, and wait.

But we still can’t tell if that cloud formation will go forward

or double back and batter us down with gale force winds

and heavy rains.

 

Last week, they said it haled in Quezon City.

Hale? In a tropical country?

What’s up with that?

What have we done that this is happening?

 

What have I done that this is happening to me?

Sitting at my window with my third cigarette

and watching it rain, each drop just another song,

asking “why.”

Why?

Why?

 

There goes my summer;

lost it to strange weather.

 

 

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