IN MY GENERATION

In my generation, there were many

     games; ampe, hide and seek, pilolo and

seesaw. You better do chores in

     haste and prepare to 

play. The night dresses in moon

     light. And fireflies flew here and

there. When it's dark, no one 

     dares. Except bonfire that

flares. After the moon 

     sets and all stories are

said, we lay to 

     rest. Then pops up the

nightmare. In it was a ship

     that needed an

anchor. On the thirsty

     waters. Anchor that cut the

aorta of the engines'

     heart. Circulation

stopped. Oxygenated blood 

     clot. The skeleton of the turbines could be

seen. Total blackout set

     out. How could we go

out? Benched lanterns got 

     call-up. Their rusted wicks are

oiled. Intestines of the rocks

     growl. Indeed Volta was 

hungry. No food in her

     pantry. Suddenly, her bed got 

exposed. Evaporation was the

     perpetrator. The nightmare 

ended us in dumsor.