It was his first, and smuggled in at that, <br />the Commies hadn't yet approved of things <br />that made the forces of free market grow. <br />Blue Jeans, they said were just a symbol, <br />they stood for what they knew as exploitation, <br />like nylon stockings, even pantyhose, <br />they were not needed in the State of workers, <br />and peasants who adored their stoic loyalty. <br /> <br />But, as so often happens, things did change, <br />hard currency could plug so many holes, <br />and tastes of those old clowns were all the same. <br />Thus, Trabbis mixed with Stuttgart limousines, <br />and colour came to visit all the grey facades, <br />where he was now accelerating, metal heels <br />were echoing back from the Brandenburger Gate. <br /> <br />He'd followed the instruction of the merchant then, <br />to soak inside a tub of frigid water, wearing them, <br />all Levis Jeans demanded this, it made them fit. <br /> <br />He recognised the STASI by their armpit bulges, <br />they questioned him at length about his views <br />of their beloved Workers' Paradise and more. <br />He could not speak, no words were formed <br />or could be heard, he stood in silence, motionless, <br />and visualised how millions of those little sperms <br />were dying as he stood, near Brandenburger Gate <br />with shrunken Levis Jeans, and heat inside his crotch. <br /> <br />A killer, so the STASI said, came always from the West. <br />Imperialists, warmongers who roamed in the night. <br />And, as the voices built toward a new crescendo <br />he lost his cool and screamed right into faces who <br />were solemn symbols of authority here in this land, <br />the meaning was not out of place or time, the words, <br />in perfect English now: 'Great balls of fire.'<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/balls-of-fire/
