a Party of (un)clothed
Barbie’s
and broken crayons
accompany her to the
next matinee of Rugrats
front row on the stained
brown carpet
…looking for “want to be my, friend?”
on the tanbark,
lost in a sea of
nameless faces playing
tether-ball
After school meals of
Coffee and rice,
studying the way Nanay
used her sewing machine
to add candy paint
to her weekend gowns,
& once again yell “checkmate”
on the dance floor
Ten years later,
Roaming carpeted hallways
sporting imposter syndrome
with a cool note…
telling stories about Kuya
and proudly painting him
on extra confidence
cause she knows he’s shy
about how he uses tears to fill
his ink pen.nevertoldhimhowmuchitmeanttothem
trying to program drums
with an awkward swing,
empty because bloodline
taste makers didn’t give her
road maps to her gold chain
Treasure hunting in stacks
of composition books,
introduced by Serendipity
to how good it felt to
dance to magic.
Standing tall on a hill
of courage & culture,
as she baked biscuits
for Kuya’s ghosts
he felt so protected with how they
went with butter & honey.trustyallcantdancewithher
To Little Rachel,
who ran up on stage
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