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by Staff Writer
Dear Uncle Al
I remember when
you was telling me stories
about the many manongs
and the carabaos
and fish soups
and singing
and the blondies
all traveling in the mish mash
memories
somewhere
like radio waves
invisible
at manilatown
and beyond.
they carry traces
of their history
and the tears
were the burden
of the futures
they were building
like the many seeds across
the American west
and floating across the
Pacific ocean.
Dear Uncle Al
thanks for the stories
you tell
to make sense of
the criss cross
mish mash lives of
young pinay plant
growing from roots
tangled
across different land masses
in the Pacific.
Ellen-Rae
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