„You’re so shortsighted! And you’re a member of the Communist party!“
„I don’t understand…“ Mama says timidly.
„There are Soviet-American disarmament negotiations going on right now in Moscow. If Johnson reads this opus, he might think the Soviet Union is against concluding this agreement. Listen to what this scoundrel is writing!“
Aleksey Ivanovich reads, deliberately distorting his voice, and he speaks in his infamous falsetto that grates on the ear:
Disarmament. Carts
Carry the bombs away to the casemates.
And I go limp and cry
„Save my soul!“ at the top of my voice.
He becomes silent. Mama begins to understand his train of thought and quietly curses: „Damn! I’m a total idiot! How could I have overlooked this?“
„How would you interpret this?!“ screams the party committee leader, and without waiting for an answer, he continues howling. „Are we against disarmament?! Are we against taking the bombs away to the arsenals?!“
I am frightened by the sharp cry, and I instinctively draw in my knees and pull my head down to my shoulders. Mama almost cries, and with a voice shaking with agitation, she tries to explain.
„Aleksey Ivanovich, this is a lyrical image. I agree, it’s not entirely successful…“
The party committee leader interrupts her.
„Completely unsuccessful. If someone in the City Party Committee sees these verses, they won’t be patting me on the back. As for your political shortsightedness, you’ll have to hand over your party membership card.“
Mama breaks into a flush. I feel as if I am in a stuffy, overheated room and begin to choke. Mama puts her hands on her stomach to calm me, and afraid she would be cut off before she could explain herself, she begins to babble:
„Aleksey Ivanovich, you’re right. The metaphor is unsuccessful. But… this isn’t what Krugman meant. He told me so himself. The hero of the poem has his own personal drama. He is waiting for a letter from the girl he loves. His feelings are on fire. At a certain moment he says to himself: „That’s enough! If no letter arrives by a certain time, it is useless to wait. Our love is over.“ The fateful day arrives. There is no letter. The lyrical hero’s feelings go into the ground like a bolt of lightning. He is devastated. He is completely discharged. That’s where the poetic image comes from. I agree it’s unsuccessful; it leads to the analogy: detente – disarmament. He should have chosen a different metaphor. But there is nothing political in his words. I swear!“
Mama becomes silent, content with her explanation and with her subservient look, implicitly ready to carry out any order to gratify Aleksey Ivanovich.
„That’s nonsense!“ screams the party committee leader, not yielding to her innocent charms. „I can understand Boris Fedorovich’s oversight. He’s a scientist, an associate professor. The party committee decided to appoint him to the post of editor. But you’re a professional journalist, which he isn’t. You need to look closely and recognize the difference between poetry and intentional provocation designed to undermine Soviet-American negotiations. Where is your sense of politics? You’re a member of the party!“
„Yes, of course…“ Mama mutters, not daring to contradict the authorities.
She is seized with panic. For some reason, as she weeps, she recalls that after Stalin’s death her father’s brother, a colonel for the KGB, was arrested and accused of fictitious crimes.
