After Reading Hemingway’s “Clean, Well-lighted Place” (For Joel Toledo and the Bayaws)

Share

Soon it will be like us. Eighty-year-old men 
Being refused another round of beers
Waiters eager to go home to their wives.
Assuming we reach old age
With the way we drink our sorrows, 
The way we drink our longings
The way we order buckets of pain,
We strive to be out of clichés
Like old men drinking at home.
The buko juice vendor will pass by
In a few minutes
At this hour I am still awake
Craving for sleep
We couldn’t even say goodnight
Because it’s several hours past
Midnight. People will drink 
Because that’s what they got to do.
Prayers won’t work
Though they do pray sometimes
When growing old is not what it should be
When growing old is not being old.

Img 9858.jpg Totel De Jesus
Totel V. de Jesus

Totel V. de Jesus has contributed two poems in the inaugural year of the Philippines Graphic Reader monthly magazine. One for its November 2022 issue and another for February 2023. In the 1990s, a few of his earlier poems were published when Nick Joaquin edited the literary section of the then weekly Graphic magazine. De Jesus has been working for two-and-a-half decades in the media industry, and now edits for the central news desk of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. He looks forward to spending the rest of his life reading and writing more poems and other literary works, while taking care of six cats at home with his occasionally sleep-deprived wife.

Table of contents [hide]

Read More

Lines from My Nepal Notebook

A whiff of jasmine Rose petals scattering Mighty pines dancing Bamboos swaying, dipping, snapping back Sunflowers gazing at their namesake in giddy worship. A windy spring day in Godavari. (April, 2011)

A Portrait of My Father

Last night was your birthday Forgot to tell my cousin to light a candle on your grave. DID I LOVE YOU ENOUGH DID MY WORDS HURT YOU YOUR SHADOW STALKED ME I PROMISED THERE WILL BE NO TEARS I remember your...

The Arrangement of Falling Things

Along the walk to the InstituteThe Indian cork tree begins its silent shift.White, five-pointed stars rest on the pavement,not fallen, but arranged,as if the long night had paused hereto remember itself. Each blossom...

Making Believe

How long to carry on this pretense That, yes, I am now fine Making believe that you are just away on another Of your many leavings But how to walk In the shade of the trees And the...