It’s been six months
since a transfer to Seoul,
and I’m drowning
in a sea of civility.
When the safe confines
of cubicle walls
get swapped
for language classes
and walks around town,
it’s impossible
to ignore how isolated
and invisible i feel.
In Yongsan Park, two
young women
bypass posted signs
to “keep off the grass”
and pad across
a manicured lawn,
their multicolored skirts
swirling as they pose
for selfies beneath
bare maples,
a milky sun bathing
upturned faces
while I stare, transfixed,
as laughter bubbles
toward me like a hint
of sweet tea.
