1
The harbor is a tapestry:
old and new, young and old
images of a place crawling
to modernization;
could be anywhere else
except for the sign
announcing this paradise -
(with a touch of urbane)
“Puerto Galera Mall”
in letters one could not miss,
my heart skipped a beat
I thought I left the city
to the cruelty of consumerism.

2
Puerto could be Boracay
or La Union
or maybe Ermita
much like Angeles
or Subic -
marketplaces of desires,
paradise for foreign men:
old, tattooed, tanned
beer bellies bulging
buying brown women.
Young, oh, they are young
and cold, with a gaze that freezes
one who stares,
stoic faces