THE THIRD TANGO- Katarina Sarić

My daughter is playing on the square with the city band
a contraption
which stands for a classical piano
synthesizer it is called–
abusively says my dad
who is horribly unnerved by noise
synthesized time unites all the sound and sense
and I still somehow hope that it will unite all the old
he kept beseeching god that she not be like me–a naked whim
not to stitch for score
She plays the waltz from the First Echelon
of a Soviet film I’ve never managed to see
but I do remember some of the remakes
local allusions
to the theme
Komsomolets on for the steppes of Qazaqstan
on to get rich overnight
I didn’t have to see
well, haven’t I seen the one
the Kopaonik excursion
the years in which rock’n’roll died
and there was no one to drive with me on the midnight train
when drunk I shed my hymen with the first machinist man
from the discotheque
in an unease less I’d be the only chaste
before the certificate of graduated maturity
and to be continued
some domesticated and already famed bone-breakers
— who translate every imported idea unspeakably literally —
pulled the first guns against real bullets
of some
who had but billiard cues
there is again a fault in the brain
and the conk broke before it flowered
our shortened graduation excursion
through our shortened land
No one danced with me the graduation dance
for there were thirty two of us skirts at that language school
My daughter is playing the first tango from the Echelon
she really stamps on it with her left foot
yet still in the drained land
I am dancing to her earthquake
on my own path
and I know already
that it has never been for nothing
that not me is
that she will pay them my debt


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