when I think love
when I think love, I think
crosswalks. crosswalks at an intersection.
intersections folding into home.
bakeries. picking up sourdough
at a le pain asser. crosswalks folding crisply
like the crackling of sourdough starter.
I think rich. downed & drunk on awkward street signs.
korean spelled to sound like fancy french.
out-of-business oscar motels. napkins bunched
under rolled-up pasta. poor imitations of gelato.
restaurants dedicated entirely to seaweed soup. restaurants
that live. restaurants that forgot to live. overhyped soba noodles & udon.
people. visiting from other intersections.
people standing in line for cheap coffee. people
overcompensating richness with cold yogurt blends.
mothers with their children. children with
convenience store rice triangles & unauthentic
yellow banana milk. mothers with half-assed
plastic cup white wine. crossing
a crosswalk. at night: unlived underground
karaoke bars. sweaty men slapping backs
& smoking through tobacco teeth.
I think love in day & night. intersections
licking corners with stray cat piss stains. a dog
barking somewhere a streetlamp lives.
women enjoying unadulterated drunkenness.
businessmen that kill neon streetlights. children
in bed. adults slipping into each breath.
the people of montmartre;
in this moment they are everywhere
all at once. we wander like strays. I am born
as a stranger in a new
intersection
everyday.
Yoon Park is a student residing in South Korea. She channels her creative energy into writing and visual art and finds joy in expressing herself. Her dedication to her craft has earned her recognition and admission into the prestigious Iowa Young Writers Studio and the Adroit Journal Summer Mentorship Program.