At last, the Robinsons panted up the cracked steps
of a sagging mansion and down an unlit hall,
where Olivia struck a match to read a name on the last door.
Inside, the Komisija had many more desks
than people.
Dusky carpets, grandfatherly bicycles
resting against file cabinets.
Joseph stared at monster adding machines, towering typewriters
old and insect black.
Keypads perched on metal stalks.
The Komesar himself, a secretary explained
was abroad.
It was therefore the director who would welcome them.
He so far this morning was unfortunately not yet in.
The Zamenik, however, was present
and desired to meet A.H. Robinson immediately.
This was a huge young man who jumped up to seize their hands.
Super, he said.
It was he explained who would be helping them effectuate
their plans though the director himself a poet
was eager to greet Doctor Robinson.
He gave A.H. papers to sign then opened a safe
and counted out stacks of worn bills.
Next, as Joseph's parents peered at a map
of Great Slavia much bigger than on Joseph's globe
and the wrong color.
The young man was on the phone to travel agents and hotels
saying OK dokey, and super and super duper into the receiver
and winking at Joseph, who stared helplessly
at his massive milk white neck studded with caramel warts.
Or was he winking at someone behind them?
There was a horrible cough.
A sound like ice being chipped from a driveway.
Ah the director, the Robinsons turned
to face a desperately long and wild black beard.
Joseph thought the director looked like a madman.
His eyes burned as though he'd just been slapped.
At once, he took A.H. into an inner office.
The Zamenik was talking again.
Olivia was taking notes.
Here and here, you can't go, he said, for reasons of safety.
But here is still fine.
They leaned over the map.
Her rear end sticking out so far that Joseph imagined himself
kicking it.
It would be what she deserved from making
him come to Great Slavia.
He watched the Zamenik's
long finger fly over lines of red,
and green, and blue to tap bright yellow dots.
The city's names were in convulsion hostile letters
hugging craz--
crazily.
Vranjska, Radimlje.
Names that looked as though they'd
been already destroyed by war.
A secretary brought his mother a bitter smelling thumb
of a cup.
Then carried a tray with two more cups
into the director's office.
When A.H. came out, he was pale and moved
slowly as though hesitant to test some injured part.
The Robinsons started back toward their hotel.
They don't know my work, he said.
They didn't even read the books I sent.
Horns were blasting, and Olivia hurried them
across an intersection.
As he walked, A.H. held his head with both hands.
He had explained to the director his wish to give readings,
arrange translations.
But as far as they're concerned, we're tourists.
I expected better.
Again, they entered the square.
As though by some magician's trick,
the two tanks had become four.
Their hatches were closed.
Joseph thought of the soldiers packed inside.
Don't be frightened said Olivia.
And A.H. actually picked Joseph up, something
he hadn't done in years, and carried him.
In the middle of the square, a man waved flag on a stick
as people around him chanted in heavy rhythm.
When he saw the store with the soccer
ball in the window, the one with the comet on it,
Joseph imagined clutching it to his chest
and getting out of there.
10, 9, 8, 7, a surge of power.
3, 2, 1.