For Joey, mornings are his business.
He enjoys every nickel clinks in his tin can,
For it is a bank. His sweat an income
beneath the sun that scorches his skin into tan.
For his friends are the Ayalas, Gokongweis, and the Lopezes.
He waits for solicitations, they watch him on the news.
And for the evenings he settles his engagements,
in treasure hunts and street sprints.
For up to now, up to the brim of his tin can,
Joey constantly fills it with dreams -
- fill it with presedential tautologies.
- a poem for the World Youth Day: Tackling Poverty Together