When I was younger, I used to stare into my mirror
and see not the yellow of my skin
nor the slant of my eyes.
I used to see a cop
a robber
sometimes a Power Ranger or Pokemon trainer.

When I grew older, I was still blind to me
but they were not. They saw the yellow of my skin
and the slant of my eyes
the black of my hair
And for the first time.
So did I.

I heard the ching chang chongs
and wondered what it meant
and if it meant anything at all.

I learned years later that it meant nothing.
It held no translational meaning to those whom it may have applied
but to me
to them
it meant that I did not belong.
I would not belong.

When I was younger, but somehow older,
I was taught that I was different.
I was taught that I would never be the same
and to keep my head from being crushed by the
waves of their learned behaviors that I had to be the same
as everyone around me but I was taught that I was different.

And that it wasn't only skin deep.

-trj

I found you atop Namsan Tower,
and locked my heart to your gate.
My heart set free.

I found you in Gangnam,
Your style too infectious.
I walk to your beat.

I found you in a coffeeshop,
The cake was sweet.
Your barista was sweeter.

I left you in the East,
6,000 miles between us.
My Seoul.

-trj

I was sitting on our swings.
Rocking.
Waiting.
Listening.
Hoping.

That you were lying.

-trj