#Log 33

we were queuing on the tarmac to get on an airplane. the airplane we were about to get on was very exclusive, new in its type, huge and equipped with all the latest technology and comfort features. we couldn’t wait to get on it. it felt like a mix of emergency, the rush during the holidays and the excitement of trying something new. the skies were intimidating, dark blue and growling. and then it started to rain. we then saw something amazing. the thunders were getting really fierce and suddenly they burst into a series of explosions that looked like fireworks, albeit frightening ones.

it rained very hard this afternoon

it rained very hard this afternoon. i was still waiting for the taxi at the university lobby. it was particularly busy today. and i could hear people talking about it–staffs passing by, students shouting to each other, lecturers talking to their phones–like it was something that could give meaning to whatever they have been doing all day or are about to do when suddenly the skies turned grey and started to pour. i could feel that i had gradually let myself be sucked in again to the very life that suspended itself to routines. nothing could go wrong when we keep doing them. but the rain kept pouring still.


in a mall with


a mobile phone that is not mine,

its phonebook full with useless numbers,




an iPod,

running out of power,


Well, let’s just read then.


a book,

one that i’ve finished,


Oh, why don’t you just polish your writing instead?


a laptop,



“Mbak, di sini ada colokan nggak?”

“Maaf, Mbak, nggak ada.”


and, worst of all,

a notepad without a pen or pencil.


So I braved the cold

At a corner table in a quiet café

With a hot cup of latte

Exploiting whatever the iPod could still play,

Air with “Lost Message”,

Rereading Marquez’s story of sailors who ‘would be dead at the bottom of the sea’,

And writing this down with a pen borrowed from the cashier,

Encased behind glass windows and a display full of pastries and desserts,

Telling a bule, “Silahkan duduk dulu di dalam, Pak.”


On top of the display, an artificial Christmas tree modestly stood,

Its lights dimming and brightening slowly,

As though it was too lazy

To pull off yet another




Looking past it,

From this glacial seating,

I saw girls with bangs and ponytails in skinny jeans and geometric-patterned frocks,

one after another after another.


Every one of them seemed to blink along with the lights,

Like splinters of rainbow on a waterfall.


And I,

I called the only number I could remember

You picked up and said it was raining where you were


I know 


trying to form beautiful phrases amidst the roaring sounds of the moving taxi and the raindrops outside.
tick. tick.

and my lips begin to chap.

i am angry.
you should’ve asked for guidance.
you are a fool.

my chapped lips begin to quiver.

the taxi stroll further to the breezy fog.
like an airplane.
but it is useless.

my quivering lips begin to tremble.

i hate you.
i don’t deserve to be like this.
getting less when i pay for more.

my trembling lips are entirely chapped.
tick. tick.

failing to form beautiful phrases amidst the roaring sounds of the moving taxi and the raindrops outside.



elected as “Poem of the Day” on pathetic.org before my account got suspended :p