#anmei

[gawrden]

you can’t fix this.

[gawrden]

various headsprites of me and my friend’s characters

[suburbanlungs-blog]

It’s Seoul, It’s Late, It’s Nothing

The Dark Green line with a station in front of my apartment, thirteen sets of closed off gray windows down and a left turn at the hat stand, runs from five to twelve but I swear I’ve heard trains roar by later. You have to be careful not to confuse it with the Green line because that one will take you west of the river, where the boys have lazy voices and the girls give in too easily and the streets are filled with harsh yellow light, and anyway I have to be home by 9.

 I’m afraid of missing too much. The missing feeling is quieter than the Light Blue line that never came – I was sitting at the wrong train entrance with the wrong timetable – and the hums of city air get quieter, soft like empty metal benches, the longer you wait. Don’t look for patterns in strangers, and don’t forget to turn the lights off when you make it home. It’s getting late, okay?

 The coffee shop beside my school, seven quiet restaurants down and towards the tunnel painted with fish and flowers, is open from ten to eight but my friend, the Persian one, insists we’ve been there later. You have to be careful with ordering because the ice machine is always broken and the mango ice cream can make you forget things and the doorway lies to you about a city where everyone has lifetimes but you do not, and anyway I have to be home by 9.

@suburbanlungs

10-12-15 - anmei

[suburbanlungs-blog]

The Cities Have Strange Shadows Across Their Faces

The peacock feather tickets in my purse

can still sing your piano sonatas on Sundays,

and when the fluorescent lights make my head heavy enough

I swear we are back on peeling benches

with numb lips, waiting for the fast train to arrive.

You used to smell like strangers waving goodbye

out of an airplane window.

@suburbanlungs

10-02-2015 -anmei