all power to the Soviet 

at a time, we’ll just agree it’s now, when the weather can’t make up its mindand the animals outside just know somethings coming,

a static in the air,

a taste, metallic?
when the grey ground gives way to the brown crunch of dry leaves 

I hear they talk about conspiracies
Nazi gold stored inside a Swiss mountain,

moon landings filmed in a downtown warehouse, 

aliens living amongst us, 
and when waking up becomes a reenactment of the previous day and the day before that

I knew we’d never run out of things to talk about
she kept a diary of political slogans and propaganda posters 

“ALL POWER TO THE SOVIETS”

she mumbled in her sleep 

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