POLLUTING

Whosoever wears a jean skirt and pink sneakers sits on the stubby sidewalks in a park with male friends drinking at ten pm, whosoever watches the elderly practice dance routines at a distance with their loud folklore music echoing with cicada chirps, whosoever pulls a bottle resting on the ground and wipes the muddy sweat dripping off the sides, whosoever twists the metal cap open with the inner slab of her arm draws red screeching marks does not mind the pain, whosoever clanks the glass with a loud cheer and dumps the contents into the throat in one nonstop motion, whosoever ignores (or did not even feel) the vibration in her pocket of her cellphone, whosoever's cellphone had stopped vibrating after a continuous seven or eight nudges, whosever neglects the worrying calls of a fatherly figure in the midst of night, whosoever burps loudly and laughs, whosoever burps loudly again and this time some stomach acid and alcohol swells up halfway past the throat in a stringent manner, whosoever swallows that conglomeration again and had her throat burned and lungs caught with rushing lava, whosoever falters to the side of the sidewalk towards the dirty sewer filled with garbage, old water, and gum wrappers, whosoever neglects the judging vision of the elderly and pours down her own share of filth into the sewer, whosoever hears the sounds of her own heartbeat like drums coming out of her sleeves, whosoever wipes her mouth clean with the towlette her friend had offered, who had held her hair back while she shivered in the dark with short breathy gasps, whosoever rinses her mouth with a water bottle and tasted the astringency once more, this time diluted in taste, whosoever calls a cab home by flinging herself in front of a yellow car and waving her hands in butterfly motions, whosoever attempts to collect herself by hanging onto the railings inside the elevator in her building, who looks at her frail image from the mirrored walls, her hair wet and dripping from unknown fluids, whosoever finally returns home and smell the asiatic incense from a dimly lit room, whosoever tip toes into that room and remain at the bedside for minutes watching the gentle tide on her father's chest, whosoever spreads her fingers across his shoulders and shook him in a light rocking manner, saying Baba I'm home, whosoever awakens her father and sees his eyes crack open in slow motion like a newborn infant, who had sat up immediately and called her name with an unused voice, who had said baby you're finally home, who held her tightly in his blanket-warm arms, whosoever has guilt wrapped around her whole body like film dares not to exhale in fear of pungency, whosoever gains the courage to tell her father once again, Baba I'm leaving and slowly leaves his grasp, whosoever watches her father sink down again in his memory-foam mattress appearing seventy years older and fifty pounds heavier, whosoever wobbles to her pre-air conditioned room with inevitable hiccups and pulls out a duffel, fills it with underwear, garments, and cosmetics, whosoever steps out the eight hundred square footage apartment and leaves her father behind, who took one last glance back at the half shut door with half shut eyes, shall never return.