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
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