i stand alone at the crossroads
in gwanghwamun
in the heart of seoul
the spiritual centre
where the japanese futilely erected their monstrous carbuncle
to crush the korean spirit
only for it to be demolished
all around me
the mad rush-hour crush is in full swing
choked traffic arteries
stretch away in all four directions
passers-by buffet me carelessly
i am the invisble man
they knock me sideways
send me staggering like a drunkard
i crane my neck upwards
i am on a merry-go-round
tall buildings and hazy mountains
spin around and around
the giant but silent video screens
blur into psychedelic colours
my nostrils are filled
with a petroleum-sewer cocktail
i am sober
but i feel drugged
who added something to my glass
when my head was turned?
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