...Glossy And Artificial.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

my elder sister has chosen
a blond hair as she aged.

she is dying, and she finally
got her wish, a blonde hair.

the die is cast she said.
she gambled her life and she lost.

i pause to consider fate.
we never really had choices or

if we had, what happened
was always beyond our control

for instance her wish before
was only to be a teacher to

follow mother's footsteps but
she got sick and had to stay

at home and just watch her life
flow like a river while she

remains a leaf carried to any
direction as the wind pleases.

at the peak of this hot month
of june on a tuesday we felt

that it is really the first time
that we talked. No pity this time.

nothing about regrets just the
trivial matters about nothing

for instance the fact that her
leche flan is not that sweet to

cause me my tonsilitis and that
i may have bactridol again or

another round of ten days for
antibiotics or that it is surprising

to know that wonder woman is
hercules' sister? oh my, they never

taught us that. We are at the surface
of things, glossy and artificial.