Sunday, July 11, 2010

My co-workers at the restaurant where I work have joined a soccer league.  The first  game  is a home game against a bunch of teenage Russians from  SE Portland.  The game  is being held in my parents living room in southern Idaho.  The Russians poke a little fun at our team  but are friendly enough as the game never really gets started.  It's when I  sing a little ditty that ends with a sobriquet sounding ever so slightly Ruski that the tension builds, & the Russians become enraged when I show them my self-published chapbooks, particularly at the pencil marks & scissor cut sections of the cover.

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