The Philippines, xmas eve.

Immense poverty: a starting point we've all skipped.
The tourist: I know it's wrong but I'm glad to be here.
Except: the urchins tap on the taxi window.
Facades: the photo's one wants. the faces turned away from.
The enticing aesthetics of ruin: as I go so goes the world.
The taxi passes a jeepney & the western models on the billboards in the grime.
The maids: say 'good morning sir' at my friend's house.
The teacher: how can an 18 yr old be so self assured?
Yet: her paintings are of isolation. her poem drips with confused passions/imagery.
The maids: are going home for xmas. walk with neighbouring maids.
The shopgirl: is the first time I've ever used that word.
where I buy cigarettes. is one time grumpy one time delightful smile.
The ambassador's house: a few doors down in this 'gated community.' ambassador of what? who cares. am bass. a door.
The celebration: fatty fish. sweet fatty sausages. lamb chops, pork chops.
crabs & prawns, lamps & candles.
The celebration: immense poverty we pass in a taxi. on the way to the airport. 'merry xmas sir'.