Kiyevskaya,

so sugar-glazed, so cupcake-ornate,

a devotee would drool, eyes dilated.

Mosaics featuring

borsch-cheeked peasants harvesting -

all idyllic, arm swinging and robust singing,

all pristinely costumed and coiffed,

no churlish protestors in this

Stalinist vision,

no Trotsky-revisionists. Not even,

a Lenin. 

I think we get to see him next.

...

Stop! Re -

wind.

Take a moment to feel contrite.

Though 'Peoples' Palaces' is cringe-worthy-callous;

yet, perhaps these sumptuous stations

were of some little inspiration?

If nothing more than: 'I can do that!'

or more pertinent: 'I can do

so much better'.

In the days before the palaces 

were opened for business, the previous

tenants having been ejected 

and the resources of privilege, kind of,

distributed, against what

could a Chagall cut his genius? Being

penurious and worse – Jewish - 

he had no legal right to education,

though he was befriended and all ended, well.

But he never went to Moscow, did he?

No, only St. Petersburg.

So, he never got to see the Metro, at all.

Clearly, not.

Then what are arguing?

I guess, not a lot.

It's just that one should not arrogantly

blanket-dismiss even the most

blatantly unworthy of self-serving gestures.

Even propaganda can ignite

the sensory-deprived, all grist to the mill.

That's it?

Yes, well,

I never really promised anything

especially revelatory, just

passing thoughts.