Eyes in the noisy night

Here in the reddest street of Manila
where a cab once rammed into my car
the driver was gawking at the girls smoking
when they spilled out of the dark red-lit bars

from the road from my seat hands on the wheel,
I can peep into the red noise inside
one short skirt returns my stare long enough
to make me honk at the cars stopped ahead

there is a tingling to the nights here
where writers walk by busy in their frowns
Nick Joaquin, Ding Nolledo, we flag them
down like cabs, offer them a drink or ten
in the reddest street of Manila