To Hilda

A Poem by Alab

To that someone who strangely resembles a local actress - Hilda Koronel in her youth. Written last July 15, of last year.

Lunch.

I take a stick
of cigarette,
light it
as I dream of
your face

and the sun
that crashes through
the leaves, the trees
leaving traces of smoke
that burns my throat,
my lips. You stand

above me,
I sit below you;
oblivious. Seemingly,
of course.

Who’d have thought
mere minutes
are now a month?

Well, almost.

I remember you
dreaming of me,
vividly, cautiously.

Funny how I can
only see you now
through cheap memories
I have kept.

Another stick,
as I glance at your feet.
Your voice is as loud as day.

Lunch.

Empty stomachs are nothing
compared to empty hearts.