Negation

I don't like these elastic mornings when the time stretches from hour to hour, while you sit on the computer, till your shoulders ache and your stomach makes strange sounds and your heart starts burning.

I don't like these mornings filled with dishonesty, uncertainty and hypocrisy.

I don't like anything that pits me against what I recognize as a clean day.

I want to go home to the coconut cookies Mamu baked in her old tin oven when we were kids. I want to go back to my fights with Bahini over the coveted box of fancy erasers. I want to abandon the flip-flip of the cursor, the ringing of the telephones and the telly ranting, for an evening under the awnings of the porch that Ba built with the help of the carpenter dai.

I want to be removed to some place else where moments were truth, evenings about homecoming and nights about dreams of angels who brought you mornings filled with the smell of fresh pancakes and chiya.