The Indian food was mediocre

but I thought it only

right that we too should

feel the effects of war.
I had been very influenced

by Russia and often fell

asleep thinking of Ivan and

his brothers, of smoked eel,
and oligarchs. “Come,” I told

my mother. “I know where

the coffee is still good.”

Our bicycles were hidden behind
a snow bank guarded by

peasants. My mother gave them

a ten dollar bill then

said, “When the machine breaks,
we break,” They held it

to the light. At the edge

of the city in the clearest

of water we found the dogs
that had adapted. They swam

deep using their wings

as fins. One broke through

the surface. “Look, Ma, they’ve
mastered land, sea, air.” “No,

that’s not possible. That must

be a duck,” she insisted.

“But, Ma,” I said pointing,
“Look, his face. A terrier.”