Vagabonds
I. South Korea
A long plane ride and blurry cab drive later, my friend
arrived in the forgotten war zone he
was welcomed with the stench of silver fish as the
locals burned his throat with soju (the "bastard child" of
Heaven Hill and Ozarka) a rapid acculturation of
etiquette & congested streets
he teaches little boys and girls English; they
pronounce their "r's" like "l's"
II. Belgium
My friend leaves in January when winter bites the
hardest she will land in Brussels to German
and Dutch words resounding with 18th century church
bells, see the EU headquarters, and buy mussels & beer
people will filter through the town squares as
a pigeon or two pick at frozen bread crumbs she
will read and contemplate a steadfastly gray sky
at the cafes & think of writing me
III. Japan
The schoolchildren, all clad in formal eastern education
garb, watch my friend write simple English
sentences on the whiteboard fifty pairs of almond
eyes listen & occasionally raise hands, watch the
sweat clump under his arms
in the evenings, he trudges through the city with
sushi and greens packed on ice in every window &
hears the clicks and dings of Pachinko machines (but
he still retires to the park, amazed at
the cherry blossoms)
IV. El Salvador
My philanthropic friend will find himself at
the place of the savior in February, hot
and wet with the blood of conquistadors from
centuries ago stuffed with papusas, he
will belch in Espanol and converse with
the old madre at the fruit stand "Our
people are poor and unhealthy," she will explain
"I am here to help," he will reply
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