Philippines: Road Trip

My head near the window. I try to dry. My wet hair. Soaked by sweat and humidity. All I can do. Is pull it back with my fingers. From my face. We fly past sari-sari stores. Fruit stands. And small flags flapping along the road. We pass a sign that says “Pulis.” Which I later understand. To be police. Women cross the road. With babies. Too close for comfort. The humidity. Grabs at my roots. I am tired. I have not adjusted to the time. And by the time I do. I will be back home.