Visit to Trakai

My history as
a series of Stalinesques manouvers
from this side of the Urals
to that

standing in the rain
looking at his iron face at a shop window
huddled in my Gestapo coat
was my rude introduction
to uncle Joe

to be repeated
with a difference
over the rolling hills of England,
through the lakesides of the Baltic,
and along the banks of the Rhein