Alexi ~ The Impatience of a Young Man in Moscow (Revised 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,

but 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.

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 can’t help my dark moods,

from nowhere do they come.

I apologise not!

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 lung-deep,

well deep down,

Yes! And please understand …

This is very hard for me to admit.

But I’m the most important

person there is.

All centres on me.

That’s 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

for you will not dance my tune!

You seem to see right 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.

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.

Well, I know you do!

For you are deep,

a reservoir,

you love without price,

you love without physicality

which 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!

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?

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.

I don’t want to go back,

none of us - the brain drain - do,

but neither can I stay here.

And I am fearful of my Country’s

‘special military operation’.

Ken, you should not call it

what I am, by law, not allowed to call it.

But I know you see things from

a different perspective.

I sometimes wonder

whether you truly appreciate your freedom.

I must go.

There is tension in your voice,

in your silence.

I will call again from Moscow

when the winter snows

have melted.

I will, Ken, truly.

3 August 2022
All Rights Reserved

© 2023 Kenneth Thomas Webb

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

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