living in a foreign language
frees you from distraction
of comprehension
there’s comfort
in not understanding
what heard walking
down the street
escape in landscapes
get lost in patches
of green and yellow
captivated by glass
rising in mountains
without interruption
of what
argues the couple
what thinks
the office worker
when you turned from a bottle of soju
asked if I spoke English
I said hablo Espanol
all of us leaning into our last bottles
eating spicy rice cakes and ramyun
hoped our conversation
would end there
3 a.m. in an orange tent
in Itaewon
ajumma swirls squid
in red pepper paste
as Ed and I wait
for the morning
bus to Yongin
but you compelled me
to lean in your direction
until I had no Spanish left
you obviously better
language learner than me
your Espanol rolled
over spicy noodle slurps
into clink of soju glasses
and metal chopsticks
through gnawing
of octopus tentacles
Ed stared blankly
someone thought
at his girlfriend
words were said
to me just sound
bouncing about
an orange tent
–Seoul, South Korea (1997)
