A burly businessman he is,|
out for pleasure in the Ural Mountains,
shooting deer with lots of shots of vodka.
Nowadays he is a seasoned soldier
in the front line of money making,
champion of the new traditional order.
He likes to endear himself to his mate,
a heavily-armed Afghan War veteran;
adores his three-year-old post-Soviet son,
dressed up in full fighting gear.
People with a gay lifestyle?
He tightens his sweat-drenched towel.
"They should be killed," he says in disgust.
Befoggedly staring at the sauna floor,
he turns the taps in his grey chamber
on, o n, O N, ...
(With Mother Russia's fuel in his hands
it will be a cheap solution.)
"They should be gassed,"
the new nazi spits out.