I exit­ed the flat, in the ele­va­tor I saw a girl in a red coat shiv­er­ing in the cor­ner, she had great cir­cles under her eyes and sweat­ed pro­fuse­ly, she begged me to help find her tall red plat­form shoes she lost some­where, I was in a hur­ry, out front a red cab with red seats wait­ed for me, I got in and asked if smok­ing was allowed, the dri­ver nod­ded, he was fresh­ly shaved, wore a red sweater and red pants, I thought I knew him from some­place, he pulled his tail in through the open door and curled it under the seat, then slow­ly we rolled, so that’s what the dev­il looks like, I thought, looks like a reg­u­lar guy, he gripped the wheel with his claws while he drove down the red vel­vet path the streets were laid with, I’m a cop, he said, I’ve been fol­low­ing you for a long time and I know who you are, I knew him too, he was the thir­teenth man, but I didn’t say a word, he changed the sub­ject and spoke with delight about the church swal­lowed by flames, I smoked and gazed at the holes in my palms, out­side build­ings streamed by, it seemed we’d passed the same street sev­er­al times already, where are you tak­ing me, I asked, the thir­teenth man fell silent, in the rearview mir­ror I saw a grin in the cor­ner of his lips, the cab went faster and faster, stop, I yelled, I have to get out right away, he didn’t lis­ten, I have to help the girl from the ele­va­tor, wake up the writer asleep on the train tracks, pre­vent the scorned lover’s sui­cide, I yelled with­out  cease, I have to save anoth­er ten souls or so and I’ll be right back, the crowd’s wait­ing for me in the square, they’re already light­ing the hay and oak branch­es, I’ll be late, I will have nowhere to lay my head…

 

[Trans­lat­ed from Ser­bian to Eng­lish by Ana Božićević]

 

 LSD

 

Iza­šao sam iz stana, u lif­tu video devo­jku u crven­om kaputu kako se trese u uglu, imala je velike podočn­jake i primet­no se zno­ji­la, molila me je da joj pomognem da pron­ađe svo­je crvene cipele s visokim plat­for­ma­ma koje je negde izgu­bi­la, žurio sam, ispred zgrade me je čekao crveni tak­si sa crven­im sediš­ti­ma, ušao sam u auto i pitao da li je dozvol­jeno pušen­je, vozač je klim­n­uo glavom, bio je obri­jan, nosio je crveni džem­per i crvene pan­talone, učini­lo mi se da ga odnekud poz­na­jem, kroz otvore­na vra­ta uvukao je rep u auto­mo­bil i savio ga ispod sediš­ta, onda smo lagano krenuli, tako dak­le izgle­da đavo, pomis­lio sam, izgle­da kao običan čovek, kandža­ma je stezao volan dok je vozio po crvenoj plišanoj stazi kojom su bile obložene ulice, ja sam poli­ca­jac, rekao je, pra­tim te odavno i znam ko si ti, znao sam i ja ko je on, tri­naesti čovek, ali niš­ta nisam rekao, prome­nio je temu i s radošću počeo da gov­ori o crkvi koju je proguta­la vatra, pušio sam i gledao u rupe na svo­jim dlanovi­ma, napolju su promi­cale zgrade, učini­lo mi se da već neko­liko puta pro­laz­i­mo istom uli­com, gde me to voz­iš, upi­tao sam, tri­naesti čovek je zaću­tao, u retro­vi­zoru sam video kako se smeš­ka kra­jičkom usana, tak­si je sve više ubrzavao, zaus­tavi, vikao sam, moram odmah da iza­đem, moram da pomognem devo­j­ci iz lif­ta, da probudim pis­ca zas­pa­log na šina­ma, da sprečim samoubist­vo ostavl­jenog ljubavni­ka, vikao sam bez prestanka, moram da spasim još dese­tak duša i brzo se vra­tim, gomi­la me čeka na trgu, već pale seno i hras­tove grane, zakas­niću, neću imati gde da položim glavu…

 

[Strip­ping, 2004]

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