a russian looks into a glass of whiskey
aiming at a philosophical endeavour,
but a pole sniffs the same glass
for the nasal palette to blossom
akin to the tongue's, and looks elsewhere, forever.

i own a book you won't even
buy on amazon.com:
voltaire's *elements of
newton's philosophy
(after all his less respectable
works remain in print,
candide and letters of england,
worth a copper bust in some
courtyard, i'm sure) -
newton, yes, the guy
who related several
linear designations
of uncovered algebra
pinpoints in equations (
compost heap mathematics);
              and i'll drink you
under the table, with your
last memories of the night
being my coherent speech.