Despite your irritating jeepney conductors, and their self-centered ways to extort money from innocent passengers,
Despite your roads encrusted with dust and your highway which consists of dimly lit neon signs and silent households,
Despite you containing my own house, its walls of gray, and tiles of, well, no tiles,
Despite living in a high-rise in Cubao,with a view of the enormous city, its lights far brighter than yours,
I miss you Antipolo, you with lush, green nature, and karaoke-drones neighbors,
I miss you Antipolo, your church of pilgrimage,your suman and cashew, and shing-a-lings,
My bedroom without airconditioning, which contains my fan that doesn’t work, my bed half-filled with books unread,
Which are now packed away in neat,empty boxes.
I miss you Antipolo and your promise of late nights,your swerving jeepneys,
The TV I almost destroyed, the dysfunctional shower, the no-flush clogged toilet.
I miss you Antipolo, and no amount of condo floor levels would equate to your comfort.