Monkey King Gets Introspective for a Minute

Matt Broaddus

Having flown to the Southern Heaven on a whim, having gotten drunk on Lao Tzu’s elixir, and
having crash landed in the desert, I lie back in the fresh crater of my success and listen to the
earth steam. Over the rim and the dust that refuses to settle, I can just make out the celestial
horde descending on a solar flare to dish out justice. I remember my old master used to say:
Sometimes the peaceful stream, sometimes the marathon beatdown. As demons crawl out of the
sand wielding a number of pointy objects, I wonder when and where I’ll find my stream. I try to
change, but the seventy-two transformations can’t change my insides. All I can do is keep
scaling the heavens, annoying the Jade Emperor, pilfering plums from immortal gardens.