Poland Won’t Let Go Of Me

Scenes from Poland flash into my mind. The gray street I lived on for two years, with the hipster cafe right across my kitchen window. My favorite pub where I’d stand next to the bathroom and fish for loose Polish women. The Catholic Church I walked by a thousand times but only went into at the very end. The shopping mall with the basement supermarket. Two-hundred grams of cheese and one-hundred grams of ham, prosze. I met a virgin there in the produce section, and I’m sure she still is a virgin...