Ukrainian Driving
Misha is driving by towers of gray brick
where poor people live.
They call them "houses,"
but they are apartment buildings.
We are flying down the road—
speeding in my country.
The windows are down and my hair
whips at my face.
I see Anya's house from the window,
dirty gray with hints of green,
And I think I could have been
more kind to Anya while I was here.
Now I am glad that Misha is driving so fast.
Misha is driving by towers of gray brick
where poor people live.
They call them "houses,"
but they are apartment buildings.
We are flying down the road—
speeding in my country.
The windows are down and my hair
whips at my face.
I see Anya's house from the window,
dirty gray with hints of green,
And I think I could have been
more kind to Anya while I was here.
Now I am glad that Misha is driving so fast.