I had a dream that Yeltsin was about to kick my head in.
The same way he had broken a tennis racket- angry at his losing.
I am not sure why I dreamt this.

I don’t play tennis anymore and know nothing about Yeltsin.
Maybe it was a sign for something else,
The way stars align and portend the worst.

Like that old man and that caribou Barbie who banned books,
Good books that you and I have read.
Oh, that makes me very sad.

But someday we will all be dead.
Oh, how this is, I truly dread.
Too afraid of fear to go to bed.

I had a dream last night that we picked a fight with another country.
No ordinary fight for I was crying in this dream.
I had no home, no health, no job along with an angry mob.

I was trying to find survival on another planet
Because the newspapers were owned by companies
That sold pencil sharpeners to our literate enemies

None of us were allowed to talk about this
And I wanted to wake up because I couldn’t believe
This was somehow real

That you and I were sitting here in this room
They designed for us and that they would decide
When we would meet our maker.