his relative died ... Maybe even his father. So he is not in himself and carries what is horrible, ”Ivan thought.

Maria refused to mention the old man, but she gave the glasses - not glasses, but tea cups. On one there was a bear, on the other - a frightened hare. The one with the hare, of course, got to Ivan.

"Well, let's go," - Yevseich gave the command, - "God gave - God took it."

They were drained on a cup, made a mess of it, building horrible faces, drank some water. And along with the warmth of the “crankshaft”, Vanya had a warm feeling for Yevseich, and he carefully asked, “He, what was your relative?”

"Who?"

"Late."

“?? !!” - a brick jaw dropped from amazement at Evseich, - “Giansek-that ?! You are this ... Nya spoil! "

Maria threw up her hands: “Bas-relief! I told you something would happen! ”

And Ivan understood. He understood everything: selling a wonderful beer, and the fall of the creators, and the appearance of Evseich, and the words “we will remember the old man”, and other words. And he hurried to apologize: “You, Evseich, forgive. Of course, I ... I blinked my folly - what, they say, is a relative there ... But you yourself understand - in such a state! It works, you know, on the brain. ”

"Yes, this byvat," - Yevseich reassured, - "I already heard, as you shouted here, as you learned something, to mean. Especially Maria - Ms. Alabno that way. It is action - that's for sure. The mansion, when this is unexpected, when it seems to be loosening up behind the back of the trap. So, I say, you are that way, but there are, after all, who shouted with joy straight. Prattle something in people grab, this ... You know ... "

“Yes, Yevseich, there is a lot of foul language,” Vanya agreed with him.

And Maria ... Oh, what a burden with her soul fell at once - Ivan saw it. As she jumped up, trying to shove something into a torture medieval machine! Overdosed - Evseich drunkenly remarked: “Masha, why are you blinking?” Yes, and the raznagishalsya something ... Just this, I look, without stockings. "

But Maria lied boldly: “It's hot, Yevseich. The whole day, you know, I jump - so many orders! Carry and carry - even check the magazine. "Yevseich waved his hand:" And syavodnya nyut, you look ... Also say so - no people have a saint, too!

And Ivan was tormented and tormented by bitterness: “O my temple, O my world, my sky — Mary! Why fall so, he groaned in the soul, Why so low! Before this lie, in essence, is not at all necessary. Oh, Maria, Maria, why do you turn love into funny gossip from the Decameron! Maria..."

And Yevseich, as if answering himself, said: “Well, oh well, let's break through. Tea, heaven on earth nya to collapse. ”He said, as if even with caution, to convince himself that indeed“ nya to collapse ”. Then, grumbling: “Well, I’m going to make a dime of kopecks ...”, he threw a deserted green vessel behind his raincoat and stood up: “Well, thank you, Masha, for glasses. Get up, zyamel - it’s time to be honored to know.”

Vanya got up. And Marie saw bare feet. And he remembered how he was rising to a pinkish moist sky. And a crazy thought flashed: “What if again! ... What if you stay and go this way again - a wonderful ascent to the sky! So that Mary could again be my temple and the world and the sky. ”The Ivanov eyes flashed for a moment, and he would rush straight to Mary. But in her eyes - fear. But in her eyes - "no"! But ... But does it really give us anything, time? No, it only drives and drives. And Ivan realized that now and then there is no place to go. He turned and silently followed Yevseich away.

They left the building. It was gloomy, crowded - people were returning from work. It was getting dark. They walked off somewhere.

“So, you know, after all, to say between us, it is not a damn thing. Between us to say, the more important were buried. And - live! What do you think, zamelya? ”- drunk Evseich pestered Vanya.

“Yes, I think it’s no shit,” Vanya replied to him.

“I'm a tea, choose a new one. Mozha, and for the better ... What do you think, zamelya? "

"But who knows ... There will be a new one - look, another vodka will be canceled," - it’s so easy Vanya said to answer something.

“Well, it’s you!” - Yevseich started up, - “You’re really the one who is besieged! Oh, what have been - all Yavropu for the eggs kept - nya this couple! And they didn’t raise hands on vodka. This is you really tovoy - siege! The pro-rut will rise! "

“But where will he go? What are you carrying Yevseich! Crushed. "

“Vr-ryosh, zyamelya! There is no such hero! ”- Yevseich shouted dramatically and, stumbling, fell straight into the mud, frightening passers-by.

There were cries: "The cop got drunk!" Look, cop get drunk! Experiencing, you see, m-ping! "

Yevseich rose from the slush of black and, moaning sullenly, with a tongue stranded, repeated: “Damn, yummy! There is no such a hero, against, fuck, the proletarians! "

Perhaps, soaring in the “crankshaft” pairs, did Evseich imagine himself to be a revolutionary sailor in front of a bourgeois crowd? May be. But Evseich was absurd, ridiculous and ambiguous, like all historical relapses, in this cap of his, for some reason, kazyrky back. And rushed over the slush of autumn streets: “The cop got drunk! Look - cop get drunk! Hey you, fag, turn the cap! ”

“Sv-Voloto!” Yevseich snapped back and suddenly asked Vanya, plaintively, “What are they? ... What are they about me, eh, zyamel?”

“You, Yevseich, would turn the cap on,” - Vanya felt sorry for him and thought: “Why did I tell him, the fool, about the abolition of alcohol!”

Yevseich grabbed his cap with his hand - his face was distorted in a brick-colored face: “Ah ... But how am I doing that! Shame something, zyamelya, shame something! As if a clown is on the side of my head ... But I am a leyantante. This is the honor of my officer's office. ”And a bitter tear rolled down the channels of the brick cheeks:“ How can you live, yucky, zyamel? ”

“Come on, Evseich, you should be killed! Now everything is nothing. You see, everyone is drunk, so maybe no one noticed. ”

“A-ah ... Yes ... That's right, zamelya. Today, how to say, all-Union commemoration. Today, however, amnesty to all who got drunk. Well, happy, zamelya. I, this, went ... "

And, adjusting his cap, Yevseich, as a sail under the wind rolls, retired.

And Ivan was left completely alone in this twilight of slushy, in the bustle of all-Union commemoration. And again he grabbed his throat: “Well, no way to go.” All amnesties are not for him, because they are waiting for him, lurking in the insane eyes of maternal sleepless, longing for a divided world. Waiting for him in the angry look of his wife is young, full of rejection, longing for a divided world. Waiting for him in every note of the heart-rending scandal that has long escaped from Ivanov's yellow house and rages in the crowds, gloatingly and sorrowfully drinking, he remembers everything and everyone, and who, well, n-no place to go - anguish of a divided world!

Because - where will he go, Ivan, the "crankshaft" who grabbed the weary titan, who created the pinkish sky and the temple on the satin pillars for a few brief moments - the whole world who made love - and for several brief moments he lost both the sky and the temple. After that, what - to come a schoolboy, lowered his pants guiltily, to the courts daily "get up, not get up"? So what?

"All-Union Commemoration ..." For whom - on the face? According to General Secretary? Dur-cancer you, Evseich! The world has died, a wonderful world just created by Ivan with love, his crazy flight somewhere beyond the verge. "All-Union Commemoration ..." For whom? According to the face? According to General Secretary? Was he, perhaps, an all-powerful titan, controlling the fate of the world ?! Dur-cancer you, Evseich! He hung in the void. And crumbled ashes. And the dust will be swept away - and the place will remain empty.

Understand you, Evseich, I, I - the all-powerful, but deadly tired titan. I breathe hard with fume and pain. I am attached to the world with a million nerve-wracking threads, and it costs if I just twitch imprudently - and something breaks, collapses, something screams, dies in this world. Do you understand this, Evseich? That is why you are looking at me - mother, father, Baum, young wife, Maria and you, you, Yevseich, in your police cap, wearing a cap for some reason worn back, and everything, everything — the whole world that is attached to me millions of threads and afraid to fall. That is why you are looking at SO, therefore lurking in the eyes of your pitiful longing of a divided world.

Therefore, I am afraid to walk to my full height, broadly, and I sneak carefully, ridiculously - with a jester, a crooked bite. Because my pity is stronger than me. And you say "all-Union commemoration." Dur-cancer you, Evseich!

He turned into a dark square, sank heavily on a wet bench - that's when really it covered him, it is life unbearable. Mortality! With a groan, he clutched at his heart and ... and there he found Baum's gift — a dormant flame, a mayonnaise jar of liquid the color of human tears.

“No-no, you're lying all, you scouring the false commemoration!” Ivan thought maliciously, “There is an amendment to the law of iron insufferable life, an amendment made by Yefim Moiseyevich Baum ..

And with a sharp movement, forgetting caution, he jerked the jar from behind his bosom and knocked him down in the open throat.

Absorbed in the fight against this liquid flame, which, together with the guts, burst, burst out, did not hear Ivan moan, screaming and crying, heard in the world. And then it became quiet. “Finally welcome peace. At least a moment of peace! Oh, leave me ... For a moment, at least, leave. ”Sprawling on the bench, Ivan sank deeper and deeper.

Fuck you ... I don't care. Paatatom

You will come to judge and kick,

And mock, fucking, like a cattle.

In the crooked mirrors of the unfaithful amalgam,

In commemoration of these all-Union din

All wonders on the contrary. Long,

Once upon a time, you twisted the essence:

You eat the flesh, as if it were our daily bread,

And drink live blood like wine.

Fuck you on ... I'm falling to the bottom,

Where darkness and silence. I do not care.

I do not care. I will dream the garden

Our old garden, covered in scarlet drops of cherries.

There morning nightingale happiness breathes,

And caressing motherly - sunset.

I do not care. I will dream the garden.

My dream is deep ...

But n-no way back!

Oh waking mortality!

Under the foot of a heavy bone breaker

The crunch will be heard - the fragile circle is opened

Naps Light can not stop me -

And wake up again. For a new crucifix -

Love and pity unbearable torment.

Beersheba, Israel. 1995