a young man sits inside his orange car <br />puts his legs above board <br />wipes his face, sweaty, cleans his nose <br />idly, looks around <br />in silence <br /> <br />he gazes upon a vacant road <br />there is no car <br />no people, <br /> <br />from where i am seated <br />i observe him <br />he is contented upon his idleness <br />i can't read his mind of course <br />whether there is sorrow <br />or bliss <br /> <br />beside his car is a wall <br />enclosing a garden of cassava and papaya trees <br />there is a guava tree <br />laden with its fruits <br /> <br />beyond us is the calm sea <br />plain blue as coconut trees tower <br />like guards <br /> <br />or lighthouses on an early morning <br />contemplation perhaps <br />about what to do next after this gentleness <br />this calm <br /> <br />will it be chaos? will it be too much noise? <br />can pandemonium be not far behind <br /> <br />the white chickens arrive and pecks upon some grains of rice <br />upon a bowl of clay lies the water that can satisfy thirst <br /> <br />you know what i mean <br />life is a variation of everything <br />full of color, wanting sound, longing for scents <br />expecting some happenings.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-think-you-know-what-i-mean-2/
