On the Other Side of a Twenty-Seven Mile Wide Mountain Range

on the other side of a twenty-seven mile wide mountain range is a place to go where no cars and cycles buzz behind me where the dusk heated sun does not touch my back and polluted air does not burn my eyes where the Pacific Ocean whooshes in my ears… i can get there by dawn and sit on the beach smell the salty air as the sun rises from mighty waves stroll in water shoes across sharp pebbles dash into a cool frothy force crashing upon me there, over this mountainous Taiwan backbone i could stay drenched in plum wine all day women amused with my Mandarin mouth women amusing me with their English tongues i could do this with karaoke nights singing to my fancy but would i forget my wife at home looking like something is wrong i look to the peaks of green mountains follow their curves through lush valleys twenty-seven miles of tiny winding roads upward, over, around, and down to the shoreline with indistinguishable places to rest and weeks if i wish to stay with an iPod of twenty-five thousand songs in a cold car with cool sound system it could be years if i do not miss home up and around bends with streams and waterfalls adventuresome companions and sweethearts and my favorite noodles