Hi, Soul of Asia

I’ve seen the pretty places.
I’ve seen the soft lights
protecting Baekje artifacts,
Shilla spearheads, and Bhuddist paintings.
I’ve seen the bright lights of central streets
and business districts at night.
I’ve seen the neon of advertisement
after advertisement after advertisement
for every product in Seoul.
I’ve seen the buses, the Kias and Hyundais,
and the motorcycles, especially the motor cycles,
weave in and out on Jongno, Chungmuro, and Sejongno.
I’ve seen four story buildings
with a different coffee chain on each floor.
I’ve ridden the subway four stories beneath the earth,
and travelled thousands of kilometers faster, cheaper, and safer
than American exceptionalism has afforded me.
But I’ve seen the ugly things.
I’ve seen the advertisements
that look like stripper playing cards,
littering the ground on side streets.
And I’ve seen the drunks
staggering along the sidewalk or falling over
as their friends struggle to keep them out from under cars.
I’ve seen a homeless man riding in a subway car,
beggars in the market laying on wheeled planks
pushing steroes, pan handlers on the bus
cajoling the riders for a few thousand Won.
The whole time it never felt like a city at war.