A znaesh ya scuchau, utrom, dnem I vecherom, noch’u pered
snom I vo vremya sna.
Zapah vozduha takoi znakomii, vibegau na ulicu, dishu…dishu…
I chto-to rodnoe v etoi prohlade goroda, do boli odinokoe,
do slez zabitoe. Ya napravlyaus’ v storonu restorana. Na segodnya eto moi dom,
12 chasov polnogo zatmeniya I 120 dollarov v karmane. Neprivichno ochuchat’
takuu ustalos’ v oblasti spini I kagetsya budto seichas ona porvetsya na chasti
I razletitsya oskolkami po telu, no ona terpit, kak I serdce, vprochem ono
priviklo, tol’ko izredka vesennaya apatiya po privichke obnagaet chuvstva
poteri I neobhodimosti.
“And I wonder if I ever crossed your mind? To me it happens
all the time” zanudno davit na viski. Ya metodichno delau clock out, zakazivau
edu, sagus’ na divan naprotiv sumashedshei semeiki chernih, otkrivau memuari I
nachinau koposhitsya v mozgu sobiraya otryad tarakanov, dau im razdol’e, chtobi
pozge izbavitsya potihon’ku ot kagdogo, ya kidau slova, risuu I skladivau. I on
uznaet kogda-nibud’…
“Ti scuchaesh po sexu
I koneshno ge po mne, interesnomu sobesedniku. A ya…po minutam s utra, kogda
eche mozg otkazivaetsya vosprinimat’ real’nost’, a ti ryadom, teplii i ryadom,
tol’ko solnce zanudno travit glaza, golosa na ulice postepenno prinimaut
zvukovie oboroti, zapah morya budoragit soznanie, ti perevorachivaeshsya na
drugoi bok I tyaneshsya za Iphonom chtobi scazat’ mne “Chert, uge 12”.
“Tsh,tsh spugnesh…
eche chut’-chut’…”
zakrit’ glaza I eche pospat’, net net, ne otkrivai, ne
otkrivai…
Dush vkluchen, telefon zvonit “Da milii, scoro budu doma!”
ti zloi, idesh na balkon, sigareti…
Smotru na more, mi molchim. Horoshee utro, teplo…
“Ti sobralas’?”
…ya ved’ tak meshau kurit’…mne tak nravitsya, slishish? Ne
breisya nikogda I kuri, puskai eti kolechki utrom, kuri, I dumai, perebirai po
kostochkam noch, zlis’, pishi chto zanyat posle, govori chto rabotaesh, no
kuri, nikogda ne brosai I esli v sleduuchii raz ya opyat’ tebya uvigu znai,
chto v te paru minut, kogda ya prosipalas’ a ti bil ryadom ya bila vsya tvoya,
do melkih sosudov v moem serdce, ya rastvoryalas’ v mimoletnom schast’e I
dergalas’ za kagduu secundu rannego voskresnogo utra. Kuri I pomni obo mne,
kogda glotok konyaka budet sogrevat’ tvou prohladnuu gizn’ I zabitie chuvstva.”
Представь, я так устал тебя любить, и ты тоже пуста
My co-worker winked and pointed towards the door. It was pouring outside. I took
my pack of Camel and a warm jacket. The cold drops of rain bounced from the pudlles
and settled on my new shoes.
-When is your flight?
-Man,I’m not going this weekend
The wind damped down the cigarette, the rain wet my face.
I went inside.
-Here is another one, he said.
-No, I need coffee.
Ehat’ na krai bezdonnogo morya, vdihat’ zapah gor’kogo kon’yaka,
smotret’ na zakati I dishat’ bezzabotnost’u.
Ya hochu kasatsya tvoih ruk, teplih I grubih, hochu terebit’
tvoi kudryvie lokoni, celovat' tvoi gubi I rastvoryatsya v zapahe nikotina I persikov.
Ya hochu delat’ lubov’ s toboi, sozdavat’ ee, pronikatsya kagdoi chastichkoi
dushi. Ya hochu vstrechat’ tebya, ustalogo, doma…gotovit’ tebe ugin, celovat’
tebya, git’ toboi, bit’ samoi luchshei, samoi-samoi, ya hochu bit’ dlya tebya…
Kakoe krasivoe nebo vo Floride, budto hudognik vzyal I razlil
akvarel’ I ne smeshivaya, ostavil raznie ottenki po vsemu nebosklonu…
