I entered my home and found myself in a fish market
Where I dipped my hand in a tub
And emerged with a fish, wriggling out of my grasp.

A tiny bottle flew to my other hand
And I squeezed,
The scent of sampaguita wafting to my nostrils.

A door opened and I could swear that I saw my priest
Lying on the bed, his innards on display,
His faint Our Father floating towards my ears

As I climbed down the stairs to the bottom of the ocean
Where the bed was made of soft rocks.
I picked one, read about my future,
And somewhere, a ringing was telling someone
That there wasn’t enough time
To feast on the waterfalls.

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