First Snow by Marko Antic

Flash Fiction, Marko Antić, Short Stories

FIRST SNOW

The beginning is November. November 3rd, actually. Already? We are both warmly dressed, and yet I took that ridiculously larger blanket again, as if we were going on a September picnic. You know, one of those especially magical trips of ours, with sandwiches, chocolate, wine, and Indian chopsticks whose fumes supposedly repel mosquitoes.

I hug you and kiss you, hug you until they “crunch”, sniff your wavy hair that spills over the black coat you got for your birthday and wear it for years, until it gets its place of honor in the closet dedicated to the Holy Things of Youth.

It’s dusk. We walk towards the forest. I can feel the smog. Yes, the first sign of winter.

“It is a grove where a dog with different eyes lives. Remember, we petted him back then. It’s magical. ”

“I remember. Anyway, is the Mp3 player still kidding you? I brought it to you

walkman. ”

“Great, I found my sister’s dictaphone too. I also have some audio cassettes and batteries. Hehe, my special compilations… ”

We play the tape, open a bottle of rum, stick cheek to cheek, share headphones and sips of rum. Uriah Heep, Pink Floyd, Haustor, Azra, Leonard Cohen…

The first snowflakes soon fluttered towards your curls. We found shelter under a small pine tree. Then I took a blanket, we spread it out and improvised a standing tent for two.

A tent of love, good music, curly hair, the first November snow and eternal kisses. A tent that I will remember forever.

Marko Antić was born on October 11th 1980 in Paraćin, Serbia. He is an underground poet and writer.  His work is published in the fanzine “Green Horse” and Serbian and regional poetry and short stories anthologies. Formal education: Bachelor of Law

Two Poems from Marko Antić

Marko Antić, Poetry

Marko Antić was born on October 11th 1980 in Paraćin, Serbia. He is an underground poet and writer.  His work is published in the fanzine “Green Horse” and Serbian and regional poetry and short stories anthologies. Formal education: Bachelor of Laws

The Long Goodbye

She would hank up on my left side
Listening to my breathing
Like You, she loved to grabble
To take care of my health, You’re cared about it too
Unlike You, she’s got an apprehension of old science fiction movies
And she often stared at me while I was dozing or watching a film.
Jokingly, I would draw her attention:
– Look! Advertising for “Elvita cakes”!
We were laughing.

I understood  that stare.
Because of You.
While we were walking in the winter, you wanted  to be on my right side
And You  would  let me slip my hand into the pocket of your coat.
I’d watched you tread, with rosy cheeks
Hair pulled into a bun
I would stare.


You would ask – what ?!
Nothing, I would answer.
(your smile, you fool)

In the first months we photographed ourselves
With a cheap film camera
And photos were in color
On photos, You turn out magically.


I brought along the album with these photos of you
While I train traveled in dawn, for the semester verification.
I stared, while the coupe was empty.
In the city I bumped into a former, older, more experienced colleague
We both worked in a bookstore and his father teached literature.
I told him about the new poems, the new job after old bookstore and that I’m in a relationship.
I showed him your photo, the most beautiful one.
He froze.
Then he said with a smile:
You are going to be so messed up when this relationship ends…so messed up.
And he, as always, was right.
I was screwd.

I didn’t tell you about the album and the train
I let you speak about musicians
You were not pleased because I didn’t understood the song of Leonard Cohen completely
And I wasn’t pleased not knowing for the comicbook which will essentially explain the two of us.

You become cold, distant.
You left  in February, after the literary evening
You were a bit surprised that I gave You a book, gift with a dedication
Although I was (un) consciously conscious of what awaits for me soon.

I didn’t  complicate.
I got up, kissed You on the forehead, and I went towards the station and to take a bottle of beer.
Where are you going, You asked. Pulled me by the sleeve. Tightened me.
We struggled for a few seconds. Stopped.
You wanted to see me off, to see how the train departs slowly, leaving
How train wagon becomes a point in the distance  that disappears in the fog.
Of course, it was your way.

Now we both have a cult episode of Dylan Dog
Comicbook called ” The Long Goodbye “
There is also a scene at the train station
And I finally realized Leonard
After the first empty bottle.

YOU ARE WONDERING

In May we are in the nature.
Improvised desk and two chairs
At the edge of the forest.
Somebody carved them
Long time ago.
It’s peacefull.
A few woodcabins in the distance.
Today is Your birthday.
Dark beer and snacks.
Good music in our cell phones.
You are allowing me to kiss Your naked back
And touch You with my lips all over your body.
You are taking my palms
And placing them on your breasts.

We don’t go to the end, for now.
You are scared a bit
Scared of yourself, of everything.
Before bed, You text me.
Is all of this too much for a start
You are wondering.

Poems by Marko Antić

International Noir, Marko Antić, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

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DEVIL

We are at the concert.
We sit. We drink.
Fight broke out. Close by.
Kids.
The skinheads, metalheads, punks.

Local madman approach us.
He speaks to me:
“I saw the devil, damn !
I saw hiiiim !!! ”

“O really? I saw him also, yesterday,
when I watched
TV news. ”

We give him a beer.
He’s leaving.

 

We are all lacking so little love
a couple steps toward each other
just a few steps
but it’s not happening
and eventually the devil comes

He does nothing special
He’s only filling
The void.

Marko Antić ©

 

THE GLOOMINESS WILL PASS, AMELI

And I’ll wait for you.
You will park your car on that same, our  place.
You will be late. I will always understand.
And I will never be angry.
You know that.
And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
And while the phone battery withstand.
You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
I’ll tell you stories when You dive in me.
You’ll ask me what I’m thinking.
Attracting of the souls and suffering.
You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
It’s chilly.
We open a can of beer.
It is difficult to cope with fear.
Don’t be scared, everyone is afraid.
You ask me what I want, Ameli.
I want to lie down and be silent
Until you turn to me and whisper “love me”
Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
At dawn I open the window.
You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
You’ll ask me if all of this was important.
And we both know
That it was.

And I’ll wait for you.
You will park your car on that same, our  place.
You will be late. I will always understand.
And I will never be angry.
You know that.
And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
And while the phone battery withstand.
You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
I’ll tell you stories when You dive in me.
You’ll ask me what I’m thinking.
Attracting of the souls and suffering.
You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
It’s chilly.
We open a can of beer.
It is difficult to cope with fear.
Don’t be scared, everyone is afraid.
You ask me what I want, Ameli.
I want to lie down and be silent
Until you turn to me and whisper “love me”
Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
At dawn I open the window.
You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
You’ll ask me if all of this was important.
And we both know
That it was.

Marko Antić ©

 

LOVE

She sends her scarf which she wore for a couple of days.
It has her scent.
She sends hers  favorite earrings, You’ll return them when You see each other.
Carefully’ll put them back on her ears.
She will send you a book, a tea, favorite comic or a medicine.
Even if she sends money, don’t always make a fuss.
Don’t be difficult.
Burn her a DVD with her favorite movies.
Tuck her in. Cover her feet.
Be thoughtful.
Be strong, also.
Embrace her in the Batmanish way.
She will get a haircut  the way You want it.
And a new haircut will be godlike.
Whisper that to her ear.
And kiss her ear, face, lips, everything.
Get drunk together.
Talk.
Skip breakfast at the Hostel.
She’s  Your breakfast when You kiss her back .
And you’re hers  when she says she wants to once again.
She’ll tremble with pleasure, at the end.
Give her your valuable knick-knackery,  your boy’s treasures.
Give her your nape and your heart.
Watch her sleep.
Save her poems.
Put them in Your pocket when You go alone for a walk.
Make her smile.
Listen to the beats of her heart.
Make her being happy.
Let her inhale You.
And don’t let her dissolve.
Keep her essence thick.
Inside.

Marko Antić ©

 

RECIPE

First, I have to love you
Childishly, astonishingly and all the way
There’s no cheating and no need for that
Then I cuddle you for a long, long time, tightly
‘Till it clinck
Then I shake You like a chocolate milk-shake
A little up and down, a little left-right
Nailed You to the wall with my body
Sniff You, sniff your hair
My lips on your ears, forehead, face
Lips
Neck
We are all a bit like animals
Re-embrace You again, clinck You, shake You,
Kiss and hold You
I don’t let go
Until it boil

Marko Antić ©

 

Bio: Marko Antić / Born on October 11. 1980. in Paraćin, Serbia.  Underground poet and writer.  Published in a fanzine “Green Horse”, Serbian and regional poetry anthologies.

Marko Antić