Datu Bantay at Starbucks
By Christine F. Godinez-Ortega
Starbucks at Robinson's
the round table and mock wrought-iron chairs
transport Linda and I to my Lola's veranda
over two cups of Ethiopian blend:
The tiled floor isn't as cold as the
table setting—white man's ruse.
Flourescent lamps, not the sun, light this mall
where shadows of water
dance on plastic leaves.
Linda and I taste, think Ethiopian.
'round the glass sphere
colors fill its edges, the young
embracing mannequin's sneers.
We agree to grieve if styrofoam unicorns
racing above us would fall on
someone's head as we nod our own
keeping time with Madonna.
Our thoughts drift, spiral
with the sweet aroma, the hot liquid
spinning another galaxy—
Datu Bantay chasing his ancestors'
horses in the clouds
above the washed-out feeder roads.
The mayor chews on Datu Bantay's
red and gold tubaw*
as Li Gandingan** charges the air
where Datu Bantay's prayers
are splattered on the wall—
the tribe's coffee harvest
sits by the roadside in the hills.
We sip the dark opium warily
under loosed flourescent light
through foggy glasses barely,
Datu Bantay among the curlicues
I am so lucky to have been a student under Prof. Christine Godinez - Ortega. She reminds me of all that's great and holy in this world. Even her husband reminds me of literature (Zeus). I am absolutely one of those who would border on obsessive - stalker - fanatic syndrome over a person who I choose to adore. And since I usually have high standards for these things, Ma'am Christine is one of the few people that tops the list. I am absolutely in awe and in love with this powerful and intelligent woman. Her words, her voice, her brain, and not to mention her expensive bags and pieces of jewelry makes me mad. I don't have much role models in my life and her entering in my life as one of the most supportive educators I have ever known makes me feel honored. I feel so honored and blessed that I could kiss the floor she walks upon (see? I am THAT obsessed) I'm just so upset now that she does not handle any of my literature class. I'm so upset that I think I'm going to get drunk over coffee and wish the memories of my melancholy whores slap me to sleep.