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.