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{russian spies} tommy swerdlow I am only falling in love with Russian spies Nothing else will do A Ludmila or possibly a Zoya To crack the code find the map to my dingy attic and make me bullet stuffed pyroshki A Svetlana or an Olga to look at me with dead gray eyes A pure heroic love A people’s love A love devoid of all emotion A bond based on effort and espionage And Trotsky always in mexico Playing chess with Roberto bolano And Catinflas I am only falling in love with Russian spies Women who are capable Of unearthing my microfilm From a Rosenberg pumpkin patch that matters Dried flowers everywhere Peasant aprons automatic pistols the byzantine embrace of Evgenia, or Malvina still on the right side of her hips going totally Chernobyl Riding that sad old Stlain train toward the east Gulags and picnics All Jewish dissidents rounded up But not me… I’m in love with Oksana I have protectsya And I have learned to be kind And not give a fuck What happens to you And the sad train Doffs its smoke hat To the last tarkovsky sky Who could not be sentimental With Tatanya showing you The cyanide capsule between her teeth for the state she was only ready to be loyal but for me she is ready to bite down and revalue everything kindness is so subjective during a cold war and niceness so overrated at all times I learned that from Nahdezda She told me To not be so easy on myself And that torture Is alchemy that what is important is to stay calm at all times there is nothing to worry about none of us Get away with anything Never Ever Not even the children Not even the romanoffs Not even the west And she sticks the clip In the handle Of her Makarov puts on her trench coat and her medal of st. vladamir And tells me she will be home to make dinner and I am going to let her make dinner and when she walks back in that door and presents me with my entire dossier I am going to thank her And read it calmly And either she will shoot me Or we will eat |
