Poem
Tatjana Gromača
THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, STAY CALM
While I was walking in the street,I saw a guy get out of the car
with a gun in his hand.
He put it in his sweat suit pocket . . .
At that very moment
he realized I was watching him.
There was a threatening look in his eyes,
like, “I’ll do you in too, bitch.”
I quickly looked the other way.
I’ll pretend I saw a bouquet of flowers,
not a real gun.
The most important thing is to stay calm.
The next moment I didn’t care any more.
I waited for the bullet to hit my back.
As if something itched me
and he was only to scratch that place.
I watched the moon up in the sky.
It was at the full.
This is a perfectly good time for me to die.
Anyway, I felt as if I had broken off
from everything in my life.
Collected, after a bath, having brushed my teeth,
before bedtime.
People were putting out TV sets and old furniture.
A real invasion of sweaty characters
in their undershirts and sandals,
piling silently on the lawn
all that rusty, zincked iron, chromium-plated aluminum
and the rest.
It looked
as if they too had decided to start from scratch.
The only thing left for them to do is take out the garbage
and the guy with the gun and the sweat suit
can come to ice them all.
The dude must have sent a memo
to building tenant groups,
“Killer makes house calls.
Before you die you must get rid of old furniture.”
Over there,
at the second skyscraper block,
kids play hide-and-seek.
They don’t have a clue
a gink follows me with a gun in his pants.
“Whom do you like more, Martina or Mirela?”
A girl asked another
while they ran trying to hide.
I didn’t hear the answer.
NAJVAŽNIJE JE OSTATI MIRAN
NAJVAŽNIJE JE OSTATI MIRAN
Dok sam hodala ulicomvidjela sam tipa kako izlazi iz auta
s revolverom u ruci.
Upravo je u tom trenutku
skužio da ga promatram.
Pogledao me opako,
kao: “i tebe ću ubit kučko.”
Brzo sam maknula pogled.
Pravit ću se kao da sam vidjela kitu cvijeća
a ne pravi pištolj.
Najvažnije je ostati miran.
Sljedećeg trena bilo mi je svejedno.
Čekala sam da mi metak doleti u leđa.
Kao da me nešto zasvrbilo
a on će me samo počešati.
Gledala sam mjesec gore na nebu.
Bio je pun.
Ovo je sasvim O. K. vrijeme da umrem.
Baš sam se nekako osjećala kao da sam raskrstila
sve sa svojim životom.
Onako smireno, okupano i opranih zubiju,
pred spavanje.
Ljudi su iznosili televizore i stari namještaj pred zgrade.
Bila je to prava invazija znojnih tipova
u potkošuljama i natikačama
koji šutke tovare na travnjak
sve to zarđalo pocinčano željezo, kromirani aluminij
i ostalo.
Izgledalo je
kao da su i oni raščistili sa svojim životima.
Još samo da izbace smeće iz stanova
pa može doći tip s revolverom u trenirci
da ih sve redom pokoka.
Bit će da je frajer razaslao dopise
po kućnim savjetima.
“Ubijam po kućama.
Prije smrti obavezno očistiti stanove od starog namještaja.”
Tamo iza,
kod drugog bloka nebodera
klinci se igraju skrivača.
Ni ne slute da iza mene
hoda striček s pucaljkom u gaćama.
“Jel ti bolja Martina ili Mirela?”
Pitala je klinka klinku
dok su trčale da se skriju.
Nisam čula što joj je ova odgovorila.
Poems
Poems of Tatjana Gromača
Close
THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, STAY CALM
While I was walking in the street,I saw a guy get out of the car
with a gun in his hand.
He put it in his sweat suit pocket . . .
At that very moment
he realized I was watching him.
There was a threatening look in his eyes,
like, “I’ll do you in too, bitch.”
I quickly looked the other way.
I’ll pretend I saw a bouquet of flowers,
not a real gun.
The most important thing is to stay calm.
The next moment I didn’t care any more.
I waited for the bullet to hit my back.
As if something itched me
and he was only to scratch that place.
I watched the moon up in the sky.
It was at the full.
This is a perfectly good time for me to die.
Anyway, I felt as if I had broken off
from everything in my life.
Collected, after a bath, having brushed my teeth,
before bedtime.
People were putting out TV sets and old furniture.
A real invasion of sweaty characters
in their undershirts and sandals,
piling silently on the lawn
all that rusty, zincked iron, chromium-plated aluminum
and the rest.
It looked
as if they too had decided to start from scratch.
The only thing left for them to do is take out the garbage
and the guy with the gun and the sweat suit
can come to ice them all.
The dude must have sent a memo
to building tenant groups,
“Killer makes house calls.
Before you die you must get rid of old furniture.”
Over there,
at the second skyscraper block,
kids play hide-and-seek.
They don’t have a clue
a gink follows me with a gun in his pants.
“Whom do you like more, Martina or Mirela?”
A girl asked another
while they ran trying to hide.
I didn’t hear the answer.
THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, STAY CALM
While I was walking in the street,I saw a guy get out of the car
with a gun in his hand.
He put it in his sweat suit pocket . . .
At that very moment
he realized I was watching him.
There was a threatening look in his eyes,
like, “I’ll do you in too, bitch.”
I quickly looked the other way.
I’ll pretend I saw a bouquet of flowers,
not a real gun.
The most important thing is to stay calm.
The next moment I didn’t care any more.
I waited for the bullet to hit my back.
As if something itched me
and he was only to scratch that place.
I watched the moon up in the sky.
It was at the full.
This is a perfectly good time for me to die.
Anyway, I felt as if I had broken off
from everything in my life.
Collected, after a bath, having brushed my teeth,
before bedtime.
People were putting out TV sets and old furniture.
A real invasion of sweaty characters
in their undershirts and sandals,
piling silently on the lawn
all that rusty, zincked iron, chromium-plated aluminum
and the rest.
It looked
as if they too had decided to start from scratch.
The only thing left for them to do is take out the garbage
and the guy with the gun and the sweat suit
can come to ice them all.
The dude must have sent a memo
to building tenant groups,
“Killer makes house calls.
Before you die you must get rid of old furniture.”
Over there,
at the second skyscraper block,
kids play hide-and-seek.
They don’t have a clue
a gink follows me with a gun in his pants.
“Whom do you like more, Martina or Mirela?”
A girl asked another
while they ran trying to hide.
I didn’t hear the answer.
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