I practice Russian on the Circle line, 'Очень приятно.'
My tongue sticks to the cold consonants like tourist fingers on a postcard rack:
'Да благословит Господь землю.'
I'm a drink teenage girl laughing on a distant atomic playground.
Soon I will be safe and warm in the glow of your diplomatic immunity.
Nicola: 'My koshka! The cold war is over.'
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