Inside The Hotel Room In Hongkong Poem by RIC BASTASA

IF YOU SEE me here inside my hotel room
in Hongkong
you will not perhaps believe
that in such a short time of our separation
I am now looking
at our pictures

the one where we simply sit on the train
going to Baclaran
on the busy day
where we were looking at the other side of the window
taken by that stranger
upon our request
still strikes me

there was something in your eyes
that gives the premonition
something in the misty window
speaks about the unexpected twist
of a sad story
a plot that i have not mastered well
perhaps because
i was too trusting

the stupid man falls in love again
with a woman still possessing the full senses
of her world

i have decided to tear this picture
into tiny pieces of paper
my hands like a shredding machine
i open the window of this hotel
and let the tiny shreds of your face
be blown by the wintry wind
from the 13th floor.