they were following us, but they never meant to:
excited, marveling at everything we had to offer
in this country, this filthy, grimly confident nation
they were two boys, 
one was lightning and one was thunderclouds,
one was summer and one was winter,
one was me and one was you.

twin number one
had raven hair, chestnut-colored eyes
that gazed right over you towards the next distraction
a rapidly impulsive walk, skipping and running ahead
and a republic of korea stamped passport.

twin number two
had raven hair, chestnut-colored eyes
that bore right through you and saw everything
a cautious, timid walk as if he was upon a cracked bridge
and a republic of korea stamped passport

and twin number two looked at me,
with those deep brown eyes and I remember
how he smiled and ran to catch up.