SUDDENLY, IT IS EVENING

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i think of you, my dearest, as a promise of beauty untouched by the loveliness of the world--read from a magazine of memory

the room is wide
this morning

as wide as your pain
somewhere in a corner
of remembered remembering
where were you when the sea
was bereft of broken beer bottles
and crumpled tin cans?

last night the rainbowed jukebox
blared your song
while the smoke-filled bar
echoed with drunken laughter
and your epilogue
of wasted years
it should have been this way--
no, no, no, it could have been that way.

the sun lingering on the glass
panes has now climbed
the rooftops: remembering
is a perfect blade
as sharp as the edge of morning
time for you is a dry leaf
on a hot windless day
yet ricebirds must cry
as the pulse of life beats
in the shuffle of many feet
in the stage where the drama
was played
you remember the innocence
of youth in the old hometown
and suddenly, it is evening.  

PETER LA. JULIAN
Oscariz, Ramon, Isabela