History is a speculator,
A persuasive palmist:
If she doesn’t steal, she’ll lie.
Propaganda’s guess
At how it was at first
Will set you up for tomorrow.

The system controls,
Citizens dream,
Sometimes so zealously
That maidans ripen.

And I have a right to a version
Resembling the truth,
To my own private spice —
What I cook, that I’ll eat.