Shuffled steps, fat legs
wheezing on the hill;
A funny umbrella
shaking at the sun.
A prayer
to keep milady pale
For some remembered season
of romance.

Soggy blouse, plump fingers
moist with self-pity,
A slippery mobile phone
tethered to slender friendships,
A soft whine,
the gossip of her hour
Before the batteries wither
from neglect.

Today the chamwi melons are a thousand each,
would you believe
Even the salted mackerel are sweating,
you should see
That Ulsan Kim girl trying to look cool
in straw-coloured hair ...
Oh my god, those Kettle Mountain kids
are gonna' kill me...

Well she perished,
cross-cut on the instep,
Dissected at the kneecaps
by a low-flying baby blade-runner,
Stripped naked with fear
at curdling shrieks,
War cries of an approaching horde,
the sub-ten roller blade elite.