On A Jeepney

a poem by Roger B Rueda

A man about all of forty and I were facing each other.
His feet were spotlessly clean. His nails were
Cut neatly. His brownish leg hairs looked
Soft and breathtakingly beautiful.
His pair of denim shorts has a good wash,
I thought, and it was ironed properly, its colour
Fading and having no holes or lumps.
His thin polo shirt was a bit old judging
By the look of it.
It wasn't the usual brand of shirt
I used to see when I
Commuted from my house to my workplace.
It was practically transparent.
His shirt was open to the waist revealing
A very hairy chest.
He folded his arms across his chest.
His arms had fair skin but had a lot
Of brownish hair, looking
Healthy enough, he must have put
Sunscreen on his skin to prevent
It from being burnt by the sun.
I admired his rippling muscles.
He had a silver chain around his neck.
He shaved off his beard but kept
His brownish moustache.
He cast a quick look in me.
I gave him a shy smile.
He smiled at me, too, with his eyes.
His incisors were perfectly glistening.
I found his bowed lips,
Which were naturally curving up at the end,
Very attractive. Sa lugar lang, he had such
A manly voice.  The jeepney pulled over,
And he got out and walked the rest of the way.
There was a roar and a cloud of smoke
As the jeepney pulled away.
I felt forlorn. I felt I'd broken my heart.
I needed to mend it with a potion
That is forced up into the air through
A small hole of his penis.
I stressed over it. I couldn’t admit defeat.
In my ideal world he is the man of my dreams.
But I just endured it. I martyred my different love.