I've moved to the far end of Russia-
the one way on the other side of the other.
It's here I've found what had been
bothering me then-a freckle of a
larger whole constructed of toothpicks
and glue that the kids didn't eat-
When I reached across your lap and
tapped the shoulder of the ghost you were
so closely holding. He was the
blanket that covered you to your
collar bone.

Winter came rushing then.
I could feel it by the pool. It touched
our shoes and scarves. Russia is
so pretty though, I recommend it to
everyone I meet-"Hey, did you hear
about Russia?" I think I'm caught in
its teeth. The land of one-hundred and
forty-five million cold war survivors.
All wearing finger-less gloves in case
the radiation comes so they can die
with the earth melting to their
How wonderful it is now, though!
The air is blue like you've never seen!
I've been hired by a postcard company here
in St. Petersburg. No one sees Russia like me,
they say.

It's here I met her on a train. The lovebug must
be going around. Her eyes looked like
plums, I don't know what to make of that,
but it is what it is.
The tracks stayed in place all along the
coastal area-
The backdrop was white and watery grey and
a child had just pulled the front tire of his
bicycle off the ground. This frame repeated itself
over and over and we just rolled along side it.
Someone must have bumped the projector,
I thought.
Her toes are splendid,
I thought.
I hate toes,
I thought.
Over and over and over I thought.

It was so dusty on the train.
Outside, taiga forests.
Foreign Russian insects.
A coat someone hung on
the antlers of a reindeer.

Her eyes were like plums, I say!

"I saw a
fox the other day and smiled.
Very few things can do that to me."

"That's nice."

I'd take a fox as a pet.
I took her home from the train (Eleanor).
She had no ghosts or
I made tea that tasted like
cement. Russian cement though, which,
in my humble opinion, is the only decent
tasting cement.

"I don't mind."

Last winter you blew a fuse.
When I came over to fix it he was
there and he smelled like raspberries.
That's the only reason I didn't
ask for him to leave.
I'd just like for that to be known.
All I did was flip a switch.
You offered me a tip, all I wanted was
raspberry tea, but you didn't have


Eleanor slept that night in my bed.
We both wore clothes and her hair
hung off the side of the mattress nearly
touching the floor. The ceiling hung
low near her tangles. I turned off the
light and then the fan.


Good morning,
morning breath.
Pitch with me a tent where we can
sit in rest, waiting for Russia to come
calling and tap us on the chest.
I've no need for crested teeth!
No! No need for traffic music or
air conditioning or scratched CD's!
Winter has come at last, you see!

"Life is better spent asleep."

(_x _ Strongly agree
___ Strongly disagree)

Last night the moon fell asleep atop
her chest.
No smell of raspberries in the
Only Russian snow-
in my mouth,

Thank you,
St. Petersburg.
Last edited by rushmore at Dec 1, 2011,
Quote by #1 synth
this is absolutely intoxicating

I agree.. I wasn't going to comment because I don't feel like I can say anything constructive.

I don't think I took a breath reading this though, from start to finish,
literally "breathtaking".
( i apologise for my pomposity but have no idea how to express myself properly at this time in the morning)
You take my place in the showdown, I observe with a pitiful eye. I'll humbly ask you forgiveness, a request well beyond you and I.
Last edited by Bag'ed at Nov 30, 2011,
thank you both. i finally felt like i was able to completely able to express myself in a piece again. i don't think it's perfect, but nothing i ever write is. thanks for the words.