Jejudo, South Korea
They'd finally let me move to the top,
To that high rise apartment building,
The one where pigeons grow families,
Where that afternoon, I sat on my veranda,
Enjoying my comfortable lounge chair,
Indulged myself in a glass of cognac,
And breezed a book of complex poetry:
"Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality."
But a vibration centered up the street
Interrupted my incomprehension,
And my table, consummated cigar,
And snifter -- they began to attack me
In swells of gray ash and alcohol.
Humiliated, I gripped the safety rail and saw
The nose that thrust in front of two dark eyes,
The tail that raised itself from behind,
A body that was turquoise on top and gray below.
I ducked to avoid my head being taken off
By the wing that flew across my balcony:
A seven-forty-seven jumbo jet
Cruised slowly down the corridor,
that space between the skyscrapers,
But just as I saw it fly away
Another came from behind.
I saw fourteen hundred biding their time,
In line to ruin what was left of mine.
Then I saw my father, further down the hill.
He was on a roof of a Burger King
Smiling at me, a knowing smile, he returned
To reading his Popular Science magazine.