THIRD WORLD AND MANILAMANIC POEMS

I alighted from the bus with my bags
four blocks away from my pension
I could lug them even in Sauna City’s humid heat
I am not affluent
I do not like being served
waited upon
as if I were some cripple or plutocrat
or common tourist

The boy smiled hopefully at me
from his pedicab at the corner
his slender thighs not well muscled
his skinny shoulders and arms
promised little strength
but his eyes were eager
and he was a magnificent specimen of boy
and I am a lecherous old man
Should I hire him to peddle me and my bags?
Should I watch his young muscles strain
for a price
and fantasize him straining in other ways?

I have my pride
I will do things for myself
and not perpetuate arrangements
of strenuous child labour
But those eyes
beautiful eyes
such a pretty boy
and he has to eat
and oh such lovely thighs

He is cheerful as he labours with his load
less than most perhaps
I do not ask him to carry my bags up to my room
willing though he’d be
I’ve already had my fantasy and tip him well
He will not know
that his beauty
more than his efforts
explains my generosity
Where does my and his dignity lie?

RECENT ACCUMULATIONS AND APPROPRIATED VOICES, Kalayaan Publications, 1997