WARNING: It's a "poem" -- Mu at Starbuck's in Seoul
he has money
bought her a fur
she yawns, makes more small talk
seemingly interested
in him
paying her debt
it's a “western” café
bathed in the music of intellectual achievement
of commerce and colonialism
he has made it
his reward
sum of worldly striving
empty
a few strands of hair
pasted into place
dyed jet black
against the tide of age, decay
and death
a heavenly choir
requiem
piercing, glorious, sorrowful
soaring above the banal
a simulacra
another page turned
I can’t move
transfixed
arrested in this moment
in this flesh
solemn, absurd
café americano in a paper cup
a great work in this babel of minds
though we speak the same tongue
we’re farther apart than ever
it’s February, but it’s still the first Noel
or so the corporate soundtrack suggests
whether apt or inapt, I don’t know
can’t afford to care
movement and reflections of movement
a moment
solitary
scribbling in a corner
the only way I can chase this madness away
and continue this journey
through the absurd void of phenomenal reality
time to pack up and move on
drama of an opera
insanity of this modern age
informing my movements
as I stuff my pen and notebook into the bag
amongst socks, underwear, sweaters
and books there to stanch the boredom
that traveling at times incurs
dutifully, to the milk, straws and napkins
to sort and dump my trash
back out into the city
10 million or more
all kinds of people in every possible circumstance
some study the bible in Confucian scholarly tradition
right now
others on their hands and knees
offering animal relief
earning a few bills
now
driving taxis, selling flowers, serving coffee, giving birth
here, now
I walk out the door