My Spirit Animal Is A Five Year Old Korean Kid Named Austin

I became excited today at work
when I smelled the plastic trash bag
while I was cleaning the bathroom

because it smelled similar to Power Rangers
action figures I played with as a kid, the kind
where if you pushed a button, their heads
flipped into their bellies and helmets flipped out.

My favorite was the red one.
No reason.
Just thought he looked cool.
Tough.

Three nights ago my friend in Korea and I exchanged angry emails
where we basically told each other to fuck off for no real reason,
and tonight we spoke about the lack of man’s free-will
and moving to South America, or Memphis, or Australia,
and actually believing we could go to the moon, or mars,
and stay as long as we liked, maybe forever.

We spoke for thirty minutes and as we were hanging up
I heard her talking to her students, before class, saying

“Why are you holding your hands over your head?
You guys are so strange.
Do you think you’re in trouble or something?
Did you do something wrong?”

We hung up because she had to start class.

Two minutes later she sends me a picture:

A bunch of Korean boys, five & six years old, hands
above their heads in the hallway.

Two minutes later she sends me a video:

She’s walking down the school hallway,
kids with their hands above their heads
on the left, being scolded by another teacher,
she turns right down another hallway, and yells,

“Hey boys—time for class—“

and ducks into her classroom and audibly
sighs. Five seconds later about eight boys
come barreling into the room; one of them
hides on an empty bookshelf (she yells at him—
“You’re going to break that bookshelf if you keep
hiding there!!”) the others show off stickers
and wrestling (they too were quickly scolded—
“I like the Ghost one–Boys! Stop it! Now!)

With the twelve hour time difference her day is starting as mine ends.

When I begin half-dreaming I get up
for a piss and a glass of water.

Look at the skeleton in the mirror.

He is definitely balding.

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