I arrived at my station in Kaliningrad as if posted there by an army of desires entering through the gate with a firm set jaw into the guarding teeth of iron girders driven into the soft soul of the soil by hammering heels as bold as yours
approaching a fateful encounter quite naughty amidst ghosts in an Eastern European night its sights built when all roads led to Königsberg city taking pretty daughters of frightening Prussian knights to a military parade past the rust of heavy industry
a call to arms wrapped tight up against youthful skin dark forces dressed in lace trimmed girdles of passion its secret codes covered by accents slightly Russian sounding like love slipping into a cold war assignation
you were too beautiful by half too perfect to wear jeans so like the uniform concrete paths abandoned to such ghastly stains they attract me like works of art that someone envious of being outlasted had to spray with swirling tattoo paint yet the matt camouflage fades fast while your beauty is chiseled into my days its ageless gloss defying the wind and dust
whipping across the wonderful blocks called home built by socialist bloc labourers whose ***** hands must have toiled for the day you were born and set free the naked ambition of men that yearn for a dessert of finely moulded vision beyond the blue vein cheese and a little wine into warm baths steaming away the tension
which had crossed our paths with precise chains snapped together in a demand for attention “stop - no tourism beyond here after 5pm” but you knew diversions locked in 'till round 2am a stress release submitting to the pull of a comforter gentle in the peace of the goose-down we slept in the softness of the rattles the worst of your corrupters