Laguna Is Not That Far Away

by Abner Dormiendo

Everyone is saying their goodbyes
as early as this morning. If only
it was walking distance. I tell them
everything is in walking distance
if you have legs strong enough.
If my legs were strong enough,
I would walk away from all of my thoughts.
The only way a train can solve a migraine is if it ran
over my head. But crappy public transportations.
But poor urban planning. You cannot attempt suicide
in the city without making people late for work,
and the last thing I want to be when I die
is to be a bigger inconvenience. This means
don’t leave me alone with my thoughts.
If I set myself on fire, I would turn into a handful
of firefly look-alikes. If I throw myself in the river
I would turn into a drowning body. To be clear, I am not
a hydromaniac, I just want to be a happier shade of blue inside.
I take a cup of water outside and tried to fit the sky in it.
I drink the sky from it and feel clouds condense
on my stomach. I feel wings grow on my clavicles.
There is a girl sitting under a mango tree outside,
and she’s probably thinking how it is to go away,
change names, get tattoos because she is different
now. Take a fistful of drugs and feel better inside
for once in her life. Between the both of us,
I hope she is the one who gets what she wants.

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