Putang ina, alas kwatro na naman.

Or, Why It's Better to Stay Locked Up in Your Room All Day, Watching CSI. But.

First things first.

To a Daughter Leaving Home
Linda Pastan

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

Sounds familiar, doesn't it? This was written in 1988, and I wish I'm as ignorant now as I was then. Hell, I was probably more original, too.

*****

Second.

I don't remember when, where or who exactly, but somebody once said that I wrote poetry that was a paean to relationships, or something to that effect. I had to look up the word paean: a song of praise. And here I thought I was being cynical and unromantic. And now, another one. I don't think I like it, or that it's any good. But a paean? You decide.

Because in the Movies

They always end up together.
Or if they don’t, always
it’s with good reason.

So she left and with good reason,
she thought. She took other lovers
and tried not to

compare. If it was difficult at first,
now there was ocean and time
zones between them,

and both are never still. So what,
if she fantasized about him
showing up at her doorstep?

In her dreams, she’s opened that door
many times over, her face changing
from quizzical—she never expected it,

of course!—on to elation, her eyes
widening by degrees, like her arms.
And the embrace that followed

has been patterned and replaced
by the best reunion scenes
Hollywood has thought up.

And perhaps this practice hurried her
to that future date. Now, she stands still
at the beach instead, wondering

if the waters didn’t flow and fall
over the edge. Of the world,
was it really round?

I swear, when it was still in my head and not yet on paper, it sounded way, way better.

*****

I've had this conversation quite a few times recently, maybe even with you:

You: You always write about relationships, don't you?
Me: Yeah. I get that a lot. Some people have asked, too, "Where's your social commentary?"
You: And you say...
Me: I've tried that before, y'know, writing about what I don't know? It never worked. So I'm sticking to what I know now. Maybe when I have six screaming kids and a budget that just about balances, and I finally know that a can of formula is expensive, and just how expensive it is, then I'll write my social commentary.

But I tell you, it has gotten me thinking. Is this all I know?

Fuck fuck fuck.