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10 years ago
November 15, 2008Intoxication
When the clear liquid drops
From its obscene bottle
To the glass anticipating
Its rapid flow, I let go
And swim in its wave
Of ice and sparkling soda,
Riding the crest like
Some sun-burnt surfer
Enjoying that perfect swell.
Or I become fish,
Splitting the sea with fins
That reflects the glow
Of stars shining down
The black shimmering face
That echoes the sea in me.
Then I become wind
That blows the tide away
From the moon returning
The sleeping sun’s reckoning,
Casting a silvery haze
On every resting creature.
But no matter what form,
What creature I become,
Whether I am possessed
By the spirits in the glass
Or not–
I can never come close
To the splendor of what
I can be, with you.
In the end, loneliness
Is more inebriating
Than any potent liquor.
manila, 1998; edited phnom penh, 2008
copyright Michael P. De Guzman










