It's not that I've ever been
to St Petersburg, Russia but if
you decide to meet me at the Vilnius airport
in late May after the bitter Winter when amber lies
scattered across the gray Baltic shore,
then I might or might not sip or skip
the vodka offered in small cafes
on the hidden alleyways,
but won't ignore our tears streaming down
these pink, expectant cheeks
as we stand in Spring sunshine facing
the Hermitage, all those paintings by
Matisse waiting on walls inside--walls
drenched with every color of the rainbow
flag, centuries of sorrows unnamed and
known, and the soundless cries of unfinished
revolutions.
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