дерьмо


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Stranded on the ten lane artery,
they watch the screaming fleet
of armoured blacks, running reds
 

along Kutuzovsky Prospekt.
Clutching tokens, myeloma
ride the carousel, blindfolded.
 

While the barker collects their marks,
Vlad stows a souvenir blue bucket
in the Kremlin bathroom.
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

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