Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

So you don’t get lost

so the big dogs

don’t catch you defenseless

the wheel doesn’t run you down

the black widow bastard doesn’t get you at home

at the end of the world in the dark.

Morning, Still

My hero that fella

I killed a rat killed a man yeah right another time

another place lying in the sand of a desert island beach

with a naked woman.

The fella laughs

and then someone forgives him

maybe

we’ve lost more than that and is B. here at all?

Anymore? He wondered that morning thinking of the court.

The one that sits nonstop from the very first second

from the very first cell from the dawn of the Earth

guess so he told himself looking in the mirror

as he shaved himself with his old razor

forever fucked up with

crud and rust.

Along the Way

Two little birds perched on branches

like in prehistoric times.

Even the blood looks the same

maybe thicker. Luggage jiggled in a threaded cage

by the lightbulb over our heads.

Up under the spider’s web.

It was in my brain.

In the concourse they offered newspapers fliers flowers

kitchenware rags a whore and among the other passengers

I recognized the devil a man who wants to kill and a man

who’s going he doesn’t know where and there was no way to hide

among the trash cans or even in the elderberry bushes.

I was slowly beginning to love the spider now I knew:

he’s got something going.

That time in the bar over spinach pizza I told

the most beautiful woman in the world my innards my everything

and the vein in my brain that link to the universe

nearly burst.

She smiled because she knew about life

and what it does: that’s the way it is.

On the walls were faces of singers actors and boxers

some we knew.

We smiled a little the shine threw light on our faces

while the others walked around outside.

Had I turned my palms up they’d have been full of light

but there was no need.

I touched her hips and was gentle.

We groped each other. I said the worst I had in me

and grinned out the window. To where we’d been standing.

It was all behind glass. And it was secret.

Any Time At All

With anyone of his next movements

Bog could cancel theater and actors.

Or else let them be in their colors

writhing crawling pacing

let them speak. At home. With the others.

In a room with walls. Where there’s air.

Where there’s love like a plant.

I mixed new and old words. Some of it I meant seriously, so I hid it away in more words. Spread it around. It was all about the same thing. Some of the pages I ended up losing.

And that night, as I wrote the word plant, I heard a cry. It came from the fire. Then there was howling and screaming … it wouldn’t stop. A wail of pain. The wind kept rolling in my direction. I figured a brawl had broken out, so I didn’t go over to look. Spent the day behind the barrels, crossing out and scrawling my stuff. And the next night it came again. A cry. And then howling. It was a person. Not calling for help. Howling. Then suddenly it stopped. And I heard … a soft rustling of paper, a little ways from my lair … something was walking around out there, I heard soft … little footsteps. I knew that it was out there and that it was looking. In my direction. I didn’t even blink. Then it went away.

Next morning I went to see Vulture. He was there, along with his woman and somebody else … but they were … torn to shreds … blood all over. I had to throw up, crawled off, doubled over. But then I went back, averting my eyes from the dead … and the flies … I had a hunch where he kept it.

I tore up the boards in their shanty. There it was. A good old AK-3, unwieldy perhaps, but compared to the horror around me … elegant. So, I said to myself … you’re back in the wheel.

It was terrifying what happened to them. I saw part of Foxy’s torso with tiny holes punched all over it. Whoever killed them had tortured them first. That explained the screaming. What kind of monsters were they … how am I supposed to include them in my awe when they could do me so much harm … Bog, I know your ways and traps … I know what it’s all about. I’ll survive as long as I can. I no longer wanted to kill myself, I’d stopped having dreams about it. Not now, now someone was after me. Someone other than me for a change.

As it grew dark I was afraid. They marched past. Just a pack of scamps. Scamps may be little, but when they get together … Vulture’d told me stories about them setting tramps on fire. Douse em with gas an toss a match, that’s how they got their kicks. He said that in the days before Jasuda,the stalingos used to come to the Dump and do it to people too. Keepin the city clean, they’d said … he’d had to hide from em a few times himself. I hoped that when the scamps went ridin off on the shinkansen, He’d count it to their credit that they did it so they could see, so they’d know … to get a whiff of death, they needed to know there really was such a thing. But not the stalingos, those guys had a fuckin ideology, a mission. Well, either way, to the victims it was all the same.

I poked the muzzle out through the barrels and got the crew in my sights. The one leading the way had his hair shaved on one side. On the other it was dyed blue and down to his shoulder. He leaned on a metal bar as he walked. Two scamps ran up onto the heaps and took a look around. Jumped pretty nimbly, they knew what they were doing. The others walked single file. All of them had something in their hands. Their getup was the usual. Something on top, something below, the main thing was fast shoes. They didn’t come my way. Maybe they were just tryin to find a trail that’d been wiped out by the last rain. The wind tossed me a sentence from the two at the end of the line: I’m glad we’re outta here. They disappeared over the heaps.

That night I heard the screams again. Far away. Next morning I went for water. Every step of the way I was afraid I’d run into a body. Some oldster was at the pump. He was glad to have someone to talk to. All he talked about was the Creature. More people showed up. Everyone was talking about it. We’re packin it in, declared a guy scarred with smallpox. It’s those motherfuckin stalingos, they’re tryin to drive us out. Nuh-uh, said a woman in a blue men’s robe, this is some new ting, sumpin from here, I was talkin wit da reporters, they tolt me. An those guys know! They got a inside track … I’m gonna be in the papers. TVs comin too! Some decided to leave, it’d been a long time since Jasuda’s trucks last showed up. On my way back I ran into Hippo. Hi! I said to my buddy, jutting out my chin … but he had no hatred in him. Said I should join his crew, it was all over here … c’mon, Hippo, some killer creepin around, we’ll spring a trap on him … Naw, this’s somethin weird, you saw Vulture. Yeah, I’m sorry bout that. He helped me out a lot. How bout Stick? He’s comin wid us, you oughda too … Where you goin? Train station. No thanks, aready been.

I don’t know why I stayed. When it got dark I took out the AK and stood watch … and then I heard soft steps coming toward me, broke out in sweat … they went off to the side, my heart lilted with relief … but then they came toward me again and I realized I didn’t have ammo. I clutched the rifle like a club and waited.

Hello, said a voice. Soft and sweet. I peeked out. It was a child. A little boy stood there smiling. And his eyes … they glowed … I knew him.

Remember me, Potok? Uncle? The boy kicked a barrel with the toe of his sneaker.

Can I come in, can I come visit? In your little house.