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 strolls around town,
it’s hard to ignore
how isolated
and alone it all feels.
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 summer rain.
