have you ever sat down with someone and talked with them about what they really, really, really loved? have you ever texted the one with the dark hair and the spider fingers late into the morning and watched the little text bubble shrink and grow a dozen times until she decided which words to pluck from the stars to condense her unending love for Tchaikovsky into one hundred and forty characters? or maybe have you ever watched the other one’s fire-blue eyes and seen the universe erupt and bloom and blaze and fracture with a million different things they want to say, a flowering star brimming with endless possibility, about where they’re going and where they’ll be, a legacy for themselves carved out of bone-dry clay, which -- never doubt -- is only up, up, up? i have. i have. and maybe i don’t know how to pronounce bungjook and kookchan and hyungjae and maybe i am a straight-edged flat b plus student and maybe i’ve lived in america for eight years and still don’t know how to follow baseball and maybe i am just me -- but dammit if in that moment i don’t love k-pop and music and sportball and history and art just as much as you do, because i love you.
just a really optimistic poem
