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No, they are not matchboxes.
But multicabs, we call them.
You see them everywhere
In Manila, in Burauen.

Look, they're moving;
Listen, they're honking.
Yes, they have wheels.
Yes, they have engines.

You're surprised that
In this matchbox
People bend
To get inside;
People sit:
Their eyes unlocked;
People tap
Their coins: the
Matchbox stops.

In one of those matchboxes
I stared at your blue eyes
You frowned, I smiled;
We talked, we sighed.

You were impatient,
For inside,
Fifteen people listened.
They frowned, they smiled;
We kissed, they sighed.

You've never been
In a multicab again,
For you went to the place
Of trains -
Where people don't bend
And tap
And aren't shy
To lock their eyes.

Now you can kiss
A fellow passenger.
No one will frown,
No one will smile;
You can kiss,
They won't sigh.

You can talk endlessly,
For there won't be
Fifteen people listening.
No one will care.
No one.
No one.

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The following comments are for "MATCHBOXES"
by Jabeelah

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