Alexi ~ Impatience of a Young Man in Moscow

POETRY

Alexi ~ Impatience of a Young Man in Moscow

(2025 Edition)

You ask what I want?

I want what you’ve got

I resent the wait.

I want it now!

While I’m young, virile,

able to enjoy.

I’m a young man.

A nice young man.

I have needs that must be met.

My love life is all important to me.

It must be satisfied.

It is my birthright, you see.

I work hard,

I play hard too.

I always have.

Nothing less will do.

Why should I wait?

People are here for me

Not me for them!

I do have moments

when my conscience arises,

I quickly suppress it

to maintain my surprises.

My life has been hard.

People understand me not.

That is their problem,

and problems bores me.

Yet you do attract me.

That I do not understand.

What? Moods?

I like my moods!

I like my oddly temperament!

It keeps you on your toes

walking on egg shells …

I will always try to help,

of course,

but when it suits me.

I sense though

I would never lure you

onto egg shells…

You see?

There you go again!

You say nothing,

Yet your eyes speak

with the adoring beauty

of my Mama’s fountain pen.

Just how do you do it, Ken?

Yes I know your name is Ian.

But we know each other.

Please, Ian, I beg you

Let me into your life

Just allow me to call you

By your birth name.

I know your family do

Down south and

Andrew and Darren here.

Well I’m no less worthy.

… …

Oh, thank you a thousand Ken.

Truly.

You’re like a ship that comes alongside.

You’ve not said a word.

Yet your eyes are as if you address

world!

I can’t help my dark moods,

from nowhere do they come.

I apologise not!

But to you I do apologise

Nowhere? … you question,
 

Yes you do have a point.

They come from good times

when I return to reality

and I feel hard done by;

my allowance is late,

and I’m never paid enough.

But I try my best.

I’m a victim of society.

I need healing.

Everyone’s against me

and they won’t dance my tune!

That always upsets me

Why? You ask …!?

I know they are right!

… if I think visceral-deep,

Yes! And please understand …

This is very hard for me to admit.

But I can to you Ken.

But I’m the most important

person there is.

All centres on me.

Now, this lifeline you cast

I grasp.

I am being turned inside out!

That’s not how I expect it

for I am born into privilege.

I have men and women

at beck ‘n call;

I like it like that,

It leaves them in thrall.

It suits me to swing

either way.

There’s nothing wrong to swing.

It’s natural, normal!

God Almighty, since time began!

You anger me Ken

for you will not dance my tune!

You seem to see through me

and that unnerves my soul.

I usually have all men all ages

at my beck-n-call…

yet you stand off …

distant,

resolute,

alone.

You try to communicate, I know

but you unsettle me with that

inquiring look of yours.

Your eyes.

They are emotional,

Symphonic.

I know I hurt you.

I just can’t help it!

I don’t want to,

but I get a charge from it too!

I’m sure you understand me.

You do?

God! You really do!!

Well, I know you do!

For you are deep,

A reservoir,

You love without price,

You love without physicality,

And this completely undermines me,

For you demonstrate a self-discipline

that I just can’t fathom.

I just cannot work out why it is

that despite my beauty

you make no move.

You make no pass.

You give no hint.

You speak no innuendo.

You seem to love in a way

that reaches beyond me!

What is that?

That I do love like that too?

Was ist das?

Dass ich auch so liebe?

Jetzt hast du es wieder geschafft und mich aus der Asche gehoben!

Now you’ve done it again

and lifted me out of the ashes!

Now the despair is lifting,

the hopelessness,

the dread.

This lifeline is the line

that few will ever attempt

to throw me.

Yet you do! Every time, Ken.

I still can’t reach that pinnacle.

I still can’t mirror your compassion.

I must do it some other way.

I try to be a good friend,

and I guess if I say you’re

my template,

then that is payment enough?

It is?

Thank you, how do you say it?

Vielen Dank, Alexi.

Yes, that’s it.

Ken, Большое спасибо!

Though I know you prefer

щиро дякую, Кене!

Haha! You like both!

I’m sorry I can’t be more decisive.

I prefer it when hurt is tangible,

but with you, it’s not,

for I know it’s not in your making.

So I go back to the Steppes

I cannot outstay;

my Visa expires

and my Country recalls.

Ukraine.

We believe it’s ours.

But we are not like yours.

Ours are cannon-fodder.

Yours is professional.

I don’t want to go back,

none of us - the brain drain - do,

but neither can I stay here.

And I am very fearful of my Country’s

‘special military operation’.

Ken, you should not call it

what I am, by law, not allowed to call itI

Stop it! Please!

It throws me in disarray.

I know you see things from

a different perspective.

I sometimes wonder

whether you truly appreciate your freedom.

I really do.

… …

I‘ve just recalled your story

Windsor Street Days

and

Elmfield Road.

Alexi, das ist sehr nett von dir.

Danke.

A long pause…

I must go, Kenneth

There is tension in your voice,

in your silence.

The vein in your neck

is your give away.

I’m so sorry.

I will call again from Moscow

when the winter snows

have melted.

I will, Ken, truly.

Stay safe Alexi.

21 July 2025
All Rights Reserved


Liverpool

© 2025 Kenneth Thomas Webb

© 2004 Ian Bradley Marshall

Written on Friday, 4 June 2004, at 5:49 pm on the North End Pier, Blackpool
A quiet cup of coffee.

The tide is in, and roaring beneath me,
Yet another laugh with Doris at the coffee counter and
putting the world to rights!

I love these people!

I feel happier now. Alexi will be fine, I tell myself.

I’ll sit for an hour. It’ll be quiet and then a night-time drive back home.

Updated 3 August 2022 and in July 2025, in light of the War in Ukraine.

It is three years since I last heard from Alexi.

Long live Ukraine