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In the Presence of Mine Enemies I can't completely hate him, he loves Tolstoy. G-d would realize why I don't pray for a table prepared before him-- that envy is not one of his sins-just lust He has cleaved mutton enough for ten On the first day, of the next year of the new millennium, I will cast the collected ashes of his cigars into the Volga. But not now. Now, it is noon and he is strutting down Red Square Mimicking the changing guards, Hand cocked at the rim of stained beret. Now he is asking for Perrier at the Moscow McDonald's pigeons are crapping on his cap He is laughing his bourgeois laugh She is laughing with him about something I wrote or wore. As the conjoint twins of their shadow approaches, I take comfort in a certainty that the sundial will shear them apart It is twilight the world is with me |
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