Sonnet: Late Arrivals
Late to arrive, we found all the city’s hotels to be full,
a convention of Russian orthographists conducting their
orgy-porgies everywhere, jamming the elevators, filling
the bar stools, pinching the bottoms as they passed.
Later we learned that to join their number, their union,
their guild, all one need do was spell John Ashbery’s name
correctly and buy them all a beer. Almost as much fun
as having Lyme disease, someone said. Sardonically.
Of late, Tashkent has been really difficult to live in, what
with all the rules governing matters as trivial as the proper
disposal of bottles and bottle caps. Taxicabs (unmetered)
full of unrivalled dignitaries armed to the teeth with the
latest weaponry smuggled in from Turkmenistan and other
blatant violators of worldwide nonproliferation agreements.
Hal
Halvard Johnson
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