A Date Without Love

I naively invited Satan over, and he came. It was my first encounter with the supernatural, though Satan appeared in a thoroughly mundane, physical, material form—complete with the requisite scent of burnt sulfur for the occasion. He had come from Pectrograd, where he was studying philosophy at the university. I didn't ask Satan just how intimate his relationship with the faculty was—after all, every professor is a spawn of Hell. Even without the question, Satan’s eyes answered: "The relationship is excellent, of course." Yet one couldn't call it flawless—or so I surmised myself.

Satan barged into my apartment wearing blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt, his eyes a devilish green. Moist lips sealed mine with a pale-pink, silent imprint. My hands, which had previously dreamed of mischief, went rigid—for Satan turned out to be a flighty girl with an overheated imagination, an indifferent heart, and an empty head. Firm, conical breasts strained against the yellow T-shirt with their sharp tips; smooth hips, knees pressing together and parting, guarded the junction between them. Looking at Satan, I was almost deceived, but Jesus—who never slumbers—gave me a sign: He winked, and I understood clearly—understood syllable by syllable—...

It’s Satan! Stay away from him!

So I crossed to the sunny side of the street. A tram separated us for a moment, and then Satan dissolved into the hot August air; all that remained was a wet patch and an empty beer can.

I know—someone told me this, though it certainly wasn't Jesus—that you shouldn't look into the eyes of your own reflection in a mirror; you might see Satan. I didn’t listen, and once spent about three hours staring at my own pallid mug; but, alas, Satan appeared not from the mirror, but from St. Petersburg (there is such a city on the Neva)...

To avoid being branded as retrogrades or callous conservatives, we can—even now—exclaim with justified optimism: "The unattainable is attainable!" Yet, as sober-minded people, we must add: "Upon achieving the unattainable, the quality of unattainability itself remains out of reach!" After all, we are real; the inaccessible is, in the end, merely a conjecture...

Mikhail Dmitrienko, Alma-Ata
©1996