Tickets for America
I am walking down the street
someone is following me
the heart is beating
it is dark
no one around
dread all over
I shiver
getting near
I start to run
the front door is locked
I ring the intercom
keep running
just so I am not standing still
such darkness
such a town
not a living soul
I’m no sprinter
the heart is giving up
the fear grows
still after me
catching up
pulling my hair
I break free
running
running
lightbulb flickers
I don’t know where am I
My heart will jump out
I shouldn’t have smoked
I knew
there I have it
running
I am silent, lips pressed tight
mouth dry
I lose my bag along the way
my phone… wallet
and your picture, documents
and a brief from work
a plane ticket
I want to go away
I will be back after
I will be back and the bag will be here
yes, who would take it
so maybe someone takes the money
but not the ticket
what would someone do with a ticket to America
running, I can’t see a thing
I can feel him close
just a step or two
the screech of brakes and my terrified face
I feel her I don’t see myself
empty white
emergency car
he is gone
some boy cries
he fucked his old man’s car
instant sobering
and me in the flowers lie bloodied
a smile on my face
I guess I am happy I don’t have to run
a white coat feels my pulse
nods left-right
they rub my chest
put me in the van
the boy now sickly laughs
the cops take him away
the town still sleeps
Saturday morning
I buzz around
want to find the bag
and my ticket to America
and your picture
most of all
where was I running
fuck
I hope I won’t have to go everywhere
I have no time, I am already in the tunnel
and the light is shining
I remember a grey Ford Focus
I remembered because we wanted to buy it
you and me
I even stopped to take a look
even running like crazy, I stopped
maybe all would have been different
had I not
maybe the boy would not have run into me
maybe
doesn’t matter, just to find the bag
and your picture
and to come home
where you are waiting
my happiness
to come home before the end of the tunnel
and see the packed suitcases
buzzing around and already desperate not finding the Focus,
no bag, nothing I recognize
through fog I can see someone hurry
perhaps it’s him
I have to see his face
and recognize him
through that glass at the police
I tug him by the suspenders, he turns, shrieks,
as if he’s seen a ghost, perhaps he recognized me,
he starts to run… it’s not him, this one is missing a leg
and now he even fell…
how are you going to run with no leg, fool!
a cell phone rings nearby
my heart races
it’s mine
I locate it
the bag is here… and the cell and the picture and the ticket, the ticket is here
the cell rings,
I scream happy
I hear your hallo, hello, darling where are you… love?
I say hello, hello, do you hear me, I love you my love… darling…
hello in the phone, asking where I am, asking who is it… an upset voice
hallo… echoing
and what should I say… my darling can’t hear me
as if I don’t exist
as if I am no more
is it possible…
is it possible that I am no more, ever?
*****
Read “Tickets for America” in the original Serbian here.
*****
Biljana Stajic was born in 1977 in Split, Croatia. She graduated from the faculty of dramatic arts at the University of Belgrade, Serbia, and worked in the advertising industry for ten years. Her first book of poetry was published in the “Prva knjiga” edition of Matica Srpska, Serbia’s oldest cultural-scientific institution. She contributes to numerous literary magazines and periodicals, and her play, “The Hobit,” premiered at Belgrade’s Dadov Theater in 2000. Stajic lives with her husband, Aleksandar, and two daughters in Vienna, Austria.
Aleksandar Stajic is a former music journalist and translator. He worked hard with Biljana to extend the playfulness of the original Serbian language and the spirit of her songs into English.
Ellen Elias-Bursac, Asymptote contributing editor, has been translating fiction and nonfiction from Bosnian, Croatian, and Serbian for over twenty years. Her recent publications include Trieste by Daša Drndić, and she currently teaches translation practice and theory at Tufts University.