Soft twilight of 24/7
Coffee scented spot
Waiting forever in two minutes he
Walks in smiling
Brief, familiar hug
Kind eyes, serious face, quick smile, smooth skin, taut muscle
Summary of a glance.

Words lost in the din around us
Laughter and loud conversation
Knives on plates, glass to floor, wine to cup
Scents, incensed, swirling
Dance of the servers between tables

My ears strain to the quiet passionate description
Of worlds seen through his eyes
Told through a quiet husky voice
Moments of meditation gone awry, with the bestowing of blessings
The peacefulness of daydreaming over coffee
Creating.
Completion.
Closure.

And hints of pain under the surface
Life longings, and love
The summary of the complexity of a simple life
Lived to the fullest.

In the middle of a busy room
Quietly alone
Wondering
A million questions left to ask,

Perhaps, again?

Sang Yong sighs

His calm visage leaning to a frown

Pen marking the page of a word unknown

A phrase devoid of context.

Twenty-five years part of one world

Twenty-five years part of another

And while he has spent years here struggling to learn

The base culture beyond the vocabulary,

his peaceful rate of speech

Carefully conceals

His self-perceived

Accented

Word choice.

Thoughts

Turn then

Back towards

Half remembered

Childhood memories

Family traditions.

But while his memories are fragments of time sealed in amber

The world has continued to move

Culture evolves and reference points

Are fewer and further between

He is a time traveler drifting between worlds

Seeking to understand an unlived past in both world’s presents

A visitor in homeland and chosen land both.

Unanchored.

Sang Yong sighs.

I’m jealous of the ant

Crawled up from the grass where we are laying

In a public park where we are having a private moment

Dogs racing down the hill to catch thrown balls and

Pause

Near to us smiling as only dogs can

No judgment as I lie back his arm beneath my neck

Summer sweat slicking skin

Scenting sweet musk, his smile

Stirring my thoughts, my heart, and lower

My eyes spy the ant moving along his skin and along each hair of his leg

Moving determinedly along the length of him

Along muscle lines beneath I wish to touch too

I wonder if it is his broken and bound arm

Or the ephemerality of his being,

In this darkened bar of interchangeable faces

Which makes him seem vulnerable

Amid those playing at being men’s men

–coarse jokes, soured draught, sexual violence–

He speaks with a poet’s passion

Soft strong words a summer zephyr

Through haze of rude raucous laughter

Shy pride softens sad brow

Evanescent smiles

A taper glowing brighter

Against the darkened banality