"Igor," said Eli.
Igor raised his eyes.
What's that noise?
the UK. U can't get
away from it. They're
like the Beatles x 100.
People **** themselves
when they hear that
music. Ivan's behind
most of it." Igor listened.
Eli spoke English, not
Russian. Igor understood
his friend nevertheless;
Ivan, third member
of the creative triumvirate
had adopted this rock
band & turned them into
a word machine. "By the
way, I got married."
"Pozdravleniya," said
Igor suddenly speaking.
"Thanks. I'll get the nurse."
When the diminutive medic
saw Eli, he beckoned her
over. "He's talking," he said.
"Mivigheb ekims," she sad,
smiling and darting into room.
Eli lit a cigar and walked
outside thinking about
something big and flat.
A white square.