“At the Embassy”

A (very old) poem by Jose Dalisay, Jr.

At the Embassy

Name: dickhead
Date of Birth: you keep filling out
Place of Birth: this same stupid form
Country of Citizenship: only to be thrown out of
Permanent Address: this goddamned embassy
Purpose of Travel: because you’re dying
Duration of Travel: to live and die in
Sources of Funds: their milk and honey

Contemplating Rumi

Tired today.

Perhaps it was last night’s trek over the Dumbarton Bridge to bring hubby toothbrush, a change of clothes, blanket, pillows —  he had to test product for the start-up he works for, and that required measuring something every three hours for almost 24 hours —  potential investors were dropping by the company today.  It was late and full dark by the time self arrived in the technology park in Fremont.  Hubby took self for late dinner in a Korean restaurant in some strip mall. Then self drove home, heading south and hooking up with 237.  She didn’t get to sleep until 2 a.m.  Today, when self called hubby to check on how the meeting with the investors had gone, Read the rest of this entry »

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