Saturday, June 11, 2005

Bored Ukrainian

I know in this moment
I should have something to say,
something clever
or obvious
or descriptive
or sensitive...

something pointless
or honest
or fun.

"What do you like to do for fun?" he asks.

And I really don't know.

He makes fun of the way
Americans say "really?"
As if we somehow disbelieve
what we've just been told.

Sometimes I think being with him is fun.

"Really?" he wonders.

And I know this whole time
I've actually been lying,
I'm just not quite sure to whom.


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