There are South Koreans driving in bongo trucks through underground tunnels
through the dark on svelte wraith-like roads towards Pyongyang.
No lights--the drivers sport U.S. issue night vision goggles…when traveling
through the countryside one must see like a North Korean.
Food born in the south
climbs north on the backs of
ants, after the classical fashion
of twigs and fallen leaves. The Captain
once stationed at Camp Red Cloud
says night
from a height of several thousand feet
reveals the technological yin-yang of the landscape.
South lit all the way from the lower coast
up to the DMZ,
North a mapless smudge in darkness.
In Seoul the city sprays raw sewage on gardens--the whole wind stinks.
But tradition still strong enough to be
buried in the ground
trumps any compass…This is a place
after all,
where
kimchee used to be brewed in animal stomachs, pepper salt vinegar cabbage,
placed in holes shoveled over for safe keeping. Marked where they hid,
sometimes years later, the Captain swore,
to be drawn from the ground, just like us sitting here, for a good meal.
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