Matters Of Observation Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is me lying on a bench
reading a book halfway through
the pages

for a break i close the book
earmark a page
and look at the jack fruit treetop
just beside the house

i am on the second floor
and no one is in the house

my wife is visiting a friend
who just arrived from the U.S.

there is no other creature except
a white butterfly hovering
on a sampaguita flower
in the small garden

the tree has more leaves
but it is not bearing any fruit
at all

i am reminded of those years
joys forgotten and now i am reading
a book about some shadows
of doubts
there is this systems that works
of patronage
refunds

i am situated in a plateau
and my Jesuit professor who dropped by
last night with a
'how are you? ' through the YM
must have understood that an
introvert like me has no
place outside
the books

i understand and frankly
i do not have to tell him how i feel about it

inside the pages
the stories are too many
my hero is dead.