MAGIC MOUNTAIN #2

i have hated this stuff for the six last years
but as i raise my elbow
tilt back the guilty aluminium can of 'hite fresh'
(pronounced 'haitu preshy' in korea)
and feel the ice-cold bubbly fluid
course down my throat
i get a very fleeting sense of mini-nirvana...
i sit under an obselete but intimate sun umbrella
outside a ubiquitous 'family mart' convenience store
(pronounced 'pemilly martu')
in a lamplit evening street in kwacheon
near the foot of the magic mountain
quenching my thirst on the devil's drink
full of non-vegan GM-derived
additives, preservatives and whatnots
which i should not be touching with a proverbial bargepole
but nobody is perfect all the time
least of all your humble fireseed
half conscientious everyman, half idle layabout
half dr jeckyll, half mr hyde
half loving family man, half prickly loner
half team player, half outsider
half sinner, half saint
(does that make me a tin of paint?)...
at half past two in the arvo
with the rest of the pemilly out visiting one of h's pals
i momentarily tear myself away from mixing 'elephant'
and through my bedroom window spy the magic mountain
suddenly emerging in miraculous clarity
from the clammy summer mists that have engulfed it for weeks
an hour or so later and i am striding up a rocky path
in the old faithful walking boots
i bought in boringmouth 10 years ago
around the time i threw off the shackles of animal flesh
the plentiful recent rains have replenished the stream
and the water cascades over the rocks
roaring through the narrow crevices
an amazing thing happens almost as soon as i hit the trail
suddenly ideas are coursing through my cerebral circuits & synapses
making my brain burn
its fuse set to blow
i have to stop and scribble all this stuff down in my notebook
it is as if i have taken a powerful mind-enhancing drug
which i guess i have
hormones and chemicals which have lain dormant
through my horrendously sedentary existence of the last few weeks
are abruptly being fired around my body
fireworks in my cortex
catherine wheels in my cerebellum...
as the mists slowly begin to descend once again
your sweaty fireseed reaches yeonjuam temple sanctuary
just below the summit of the magic mountain
home to the spectacular snake-armed golden buddha
housed in a beautiful prayer hall
in the garden below there are tropical orchids
and other flowers with beautiful wine red-yellow petals
incense and the murmur of distant chanting
fill the rejuvenating air
as i gaze out over the valley i have just climbed
cloaked in deep green forest
i get chatting to a couple of american dudes from LA
the dark swarthy one proudly displays a mane of chest hair
that your average korean guy would have to buy in a shop
and sports a gold star of david medallion
no confusion about where his family hails from
the bespectacled fellow is a gregarious 'private hagwon' teacher
up from busan for the weekend
he tells me the republicans don't have much chance of being reelected
i decide not to explore that avenue
and simply nod and smile affably
twenty minutes from the top
and the mist closes in ever more tightly
we respect the mountain and turn back
leaving behind the fragrant pines and rushing water
for the everyday mundanity of kwacheon city
its legoland apartment blocks
and its man-made sterility