Western Siberia,
Soviet Union dissolved,
Western capital welcome
oil projects abundant.
Old oil town, five story shelters, sandy streets.
One restaurant, good for all.
Reservations for Saturday
wedding underway, music playing, laughter.
We look at them, they look at us
could have been Wisconsin.
Dollars and rose to head table
two bottles of champaigne in return
we are part of the wedding party
we danced with the bride.
Leaving, father of the bride shook hands.
'Would you like a video of this evening?
One hundred fifty dollars.'
Nouveau riche, big bear alert, watch your shirt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you for taking me along on your trip to Siberia- -had a great time and didn't have to spend a cent. But thanks for the tip!