The Leiry Loop

Totalitarianism, Twisted for a Bit

You

whose voice
linger
in my subconscious,
and my conscious,
eternally
humming that tune—

Tonight, we are young...

You

whose seat
next to
mine
are riddled with
scratches
of your pen’s ammunition—

You

who painstakingly
reminded
me of the ticking
of the clock
close to three,
and a quarter more
of the words
written in that inexplicable foreign
book—

You

with a flash,
and a snap—


The apple of neither green nor red;
neither sweet nor bitter—

but an apple,

the Apple

nevertheless.

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Dedicated to my friend, Krizzia Mei Esperanza
who captured our lives
not just with a camera