she’s 26 and may not reach Seoul with a comic novel

introducing a sliding scale of charge d’affaires

in caustically measured written characters

loose on an airliner folded into resilient rainforests

drummed in a minute’s arithmetic

promising to make something like a natural sound

a hint of dictionary from a local chorus

ripe for a nostalgic poll vaulter’s enduring grip

abandoned under abandoned covers
which is exactly how the plateau was mentioned

below the steamed up skylight of two of them falling there

rejecting the prized labels and headcount

the sonorous cube of someone’s descent

entering on their hands

choosing conversations of gradually adjoining landmarks

the cape and his bearded terrain

of conspiratorial windowsills

denying an ocean’s review

of timeworn phrases drastically repeated

treated to a tenement of rushing streets

until perspective caught up with it

ambling in the fast lane

humming a word’s tessellated mirror