I’M LIVING IN THE STATES FROM BOREDOM
I’m living in the States from boredom,
pretending that I’m someone else,
pronouncing these unpleasant noises,
some in the throat, some through the nose,
some of them by my tongue extruded,
others locked in behind my teeth,
and nothing that I tell my students
makes any sense at all to me.
I could have been of worthy aspect,
with much to say that meant a lot,
partaking of a decent cognac,
Glazkov to share it, or Tselkov.
And as my arm would raise the snifter,
one slightly narrowed eye aloof,
I would recall with voice uplifted
what happened at our last set-to,
how we nipped out when shades were falling
for vodka from the station bar.
Some are no more, and I’m past calling
(as somebody once said back thar’).