G Spot

Second chances

By Virginia J. Pasalo


SOMEONE told me, “Yes, Virginia, there is such a thing as Santa Claus!”. First, I can believe anything as a child. I believed that my Uncle Opie’s airplane can land on our rooftop, and I would wave at each plane passing by, hoping for a landing. I believed that someday I would become a pilot, and catch the clouds with my palms. I believed that angels existed, and I would play with Archangels Michael and Lucifer, and that I can be in the Garden of Eden where I can be a snake slithering into Adam’s apple, and find what’s behind the leaf, and why it never falls.

I still believe in some of those I used to believe in as a child, although I quit asking Santa Claus for anything. Now I ask the help of my dear friends who passed on to other dimensions, to intercede in my behalf. I believe they are in the best position to follow-through things I bring up to God, and remind Him/Her in case I forget, or He/She becomes busy with other things. It works most of the time, whenever I call Tessie de Venecia, because I can argue with her and she can insist on my petition, without going to Hell.

I am presented with a second chance. It has nothing to do airplanes and clouds, or angels or gardens. It has nothing to do with what I used to believe in. God is playing Santa Claus and giving me a gift, with a threat to withdraw it if I do not act with the speed required to keep it. I will wait and take my time, and see whether God will be pissed off and choose to withhold, and make me suffer, forever, the absence of the birds and the bees.


Raw corn

i want you to close your eyes

when once you saw me

for the first time

from the corner of your eyes

nibbling raw corn,

a fresh harvest

i was weird, wasn’t I?


you were aghast as I told you a story

of my father, teaching me

how to eat small river shrimps

alive, as they jump in my mouth


and then again, you saw me

tasting the soil

and I caught you looking, shocked.

like, what will she eat next?


in a weird way, i thought of you

my next victim.

Share your Comments or Reactions


Powered by Facebook Comments