The Ukrainian Girl in the Airport

I need to call you on the phone
My long lost friend
My old roan

She only understood enough to be impressed
As I spoke my stately syllogisms in many silken syllables dressed
Saying things she never would have surmised or guessed

They cannot understand their condition
I watched her walk away in doubt, saying only “I hope”
Not knowing if I had handed her a ladder or a rope
Would tomorrow with the dragon send her to perdition?

We have come to the dreary dusk of the witching hour
They will only understand your light and beauty and power
My heart is twisted and weak, its savor sour
Come now, my desert flower

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