I'm a girl. I'm an Asian girl. I'm a Korean girl. I'm a Korean girl, lover of
melted chocolate, all--too lickable off the spoon, fashionable clouds fit to wear
on any occasion, lung-chilling, head-clearing autumn air, the feel of worn
cotton, the sound of a D on any instrument, falling asleep on the sofa, eating cereal
at midnight, the smooth, uninterrupted flow of my ball-point pen, eating
the tips of pizzas, the first bite of apple, doodling in ever increasing
intimacy, and the art of shoe observance in a subway car.
I'm a Korean girl. I'm an Asian girl. I'm a girl.