For Jose Garcia Villa
The kwek-kweks are being fried,
They are like little balls to the kiat-kiat tree.
(A man has only two balls,
There are many balls in a kiat-kiat tree.)
Soon the kwek-kweks will turn orange and yummy:
I shall pick up two...three…or many…
Like a modest girl (or boy1), I shall first lick their skin,
I shall lick them before eating (the egg of) the Bird:
I shall be reminded of a bunch of boys.
---------------------------------------------
I shall kiss kwek-kweks because they are the balls of a boy.
In UP they say we are postmodernists now, sir, and are free to write about our Jacks and Davids—without suspension.
No comments:
Post a Comment