boy, it's fine when christmas comes twice a year.
not very far apart, not much hoopla'd
requires Russian champagne, chocolates, candles
we wouldn't have it any other way.
Oleg entered, we found each other, lit
candles, assembled, cork popped, more cheer, jokes
the Chekhov-level cinema briefed on
(russians have bigger souls, you know that, right?)
Now another roommate, no bubbly left
Now still another, he'll come 'talk', even
without the slav-requisit alcohol
depth to sound on this holiday, observed.
do they watch movies on christmas back home?
we didn't ask host. we ate our borscht.
we drank his wine, had bon bons foisted on.
we're looking forward to the New Year, now.
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