Nationalist Opera

It was a party

Built for the minuscule elite

Lost amid acres of scuffed marble, wanderers

Newspapers & schoolwork

People knew

To speak in surreal, mechanical hyperbole

Government, of course

Monuments, behemoths

Of relative luxury

I know what you want to ask

I want you to take the truth to the world

Down in the city, loudspeakers

Disappearing into a hidden gulag

Centuries ago

The monks appeared

Every morning in the lobbies of our hotels

A minder was beside them

The monks followed us out into the parking lot