The axis of third world haircuts
the bland greed of vodka drinkers
the pale skin of the lonely heart
the tomato sun of the market
the prison noise of the taxi-bus
the Cyrillic insistence of the numbered floor
the deathblow in the eyes of the stranger foe
– Chisinau my jail –
the guilty joy of soaring through the clouds
the change and the chaos
the memory
and the wait.
