Spies Like Us

When cold wars end, it's hard not to wonder how they ever got started.

This freedom in the day. This laughter at the thought. This peace. Unexpected and yet so comfortable and welcomed that it wasn't even a question of time. It wasn't even a question of distance. It wasn't even a question of fear.

        Until the last.

Somewhere in the smile is a cut. A bladeline that I not only know about, but can feel just as deep. Somewhere in the Kremlin there is a camera that's still connected to an monitor screen at Langley. Somewhere in a surburban home there is an alarm clock that's really just an eye.

      Somewhere in this embrace, we may always feel a chill.

                But I'd much rather brave the silence and cold
                than to ever see that wall rise between the strasse again.

[Listening to: Deftones, "Rickets"