Trapped in a gridlock,
I fixed my eyes
on the distant billboard
of collapsing space
on the upper façade
of the outlet mall,
having seen an advertisement
of visual distortion and now
a switch-and-bait
as the cab went to the front a bit.
At the mall,
the Nativity in splendid, indigenous arrays
left everyone breathless.
Neon lights aglow with excitement
and glittering polystyrene angels
were hanging down on the glass windows.
Shoppers were rushing,
carrying their buys.
In the blink of an eye,
my mind collapsed,
the Nativity, whirling,
and flashing angels
through my mind swung
to the museum's garden
in which an Ati family (father, mother,
and child) were begging—
Little children with curly spiralled hair
were knocking on the cab's window
Are they museum's essential,
extant exhibits or did they stray
too far from Dinagyang?
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