Summer Magazine

Occasionally my mom tucks
old magazines into the
oversize packages she
mails to Korea.
Between the rattly pantry items
and bulky toys for the kids
a Martha Stewart Living will appear.

The glossy floral cover promises “sheet cakes that wow,”
“mini room makeovers,” and “melt-in-your-mouth meringues.”

While flipping through the pages I’m fanned with a breeze of
nostalgic summers in America.
Filed between a feature on roses and animal-shaped cakes is an
article explaining how to decorate your home like a popsicle.

I am not particularly interested in the décor of page 120,
in the orange accented bed or the coordinating shower curtain stacked with teal, hot pink, and orange,
but sitting on my living room floor, listening to afternoon
traffic and summer birds,
I feel the predictability of a cooling
fan as it pivots and homesickness as it blows heavy on my face.
I want to turn two-dimensional and slip
into the scene like a paper doll.

A wind of desire, of jealousy, of longing
grabs my attention
and I turn the page quickly as if it were that easy to skip over the difficult parts
of a life simply by closing a magazine

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