Mormons
Bicycles, dogs, boys
Vines, bougainvillea wrap around wires
A tree with no leaves
The same boys throw stones on a black dog
An old lady with trash on her trike
A youngster helps her
Gangsters
She may have blown her right back wheel
She checks her spare
She just had a bath
And looks at the car’s mirror to see her face
A movie and coffee
The dog sleeps on top of a pile of sand
Double deal
2 regular pizzas 499
And he begins his rounds
To collect debts unpaid
Goes back
May have forgotten something
Or the debtor is not in there
Pakiusap
Hwag-tapunan
Basura canal
Can’t remember when I last saw the sun
He made a joke about him
The others laughed
I smell the dog needs a bath
Green plastic fences
What can they do really to protect these plants?
?
The rambutab fruits are late
Tuko!
Apatot
The coolest weirdest pigeon house
I smell wet paint, cigarretes, and burnt coconut
The messiness of this walk begins
Too many cars
La Anicia
Badminton kids
The kingdom hall
A coffee machine
Bushes blockibg the little side walk i have
She walks as if she could die tomorrow
Chicken beside church
I drink buko
Pares too soupy
He sleeps at the doorstep of a shoe shop
Empty jollibee trash bins
A bookshop i’ve never visited
Too many breads when were they last finished
A chicken roasted store beside a chapel
She breaths vape and swallows it while walking
These yet to be moved electric posts shield us from speedy vehicles
A big tooth hangs on a second floor balcony
Electric bikes
A bus opens and they go down only to ride another one a few hours from now
I might find my death one day on this road
An ambulance appears out of nowhere
That grilled tilapia is heaven
Grazing motherfucking tables
Looked at my left and saw a large woman in read walking beside me
Pedestrians are protected when they cross and take their chances
Not when walking sidewalks
Night at maahas road
Can I walk here without dying?
Goto batangas beside an online variety shop
Writing or my life?
Still open but he watches the news
Maralika fund act now a law
Including my desire to get home alive
Durian and tusok
She moved her Umbrella so we can both fit on the sidewalk
A dance school without music
I trust my life with their lights
Crumpled bottle of water
I stepped on mud
Suddenly weight on my left feet
I opened my phone’s flash light
And I see the railway
I cross it and no train
No people
A thick mist covers Makiling
The rural comes
Like Sta. Maria
Dark Sta. Maria
Alone I am
Like this firefly
Both of us pedestrians of life
As I walk, harde ed soil leaves my flipflops
And land on my neck
What? This was a rotonda all along?
Jogger selfies
A solar powered seed bank looks like a food cart with open roofs but no vendors
I smell perfume
He cam out of my left
He was the one I came across a while ago
A walker
I sat down to call
Dinner at Janges no energy to buy and cook food
Lamposts from a far blinking like car lights
I entrust my life to them