二月将至
安娜·麦克唐纳
童年的延巴克图已远离不再。
蒙古也是如此,那个人们在荒原上偷窃恐龙骨头的地方。
永久的封存绝无可能。
或许你的行李搬运了些外来物种,
帽子里藏着一块头骨,
想象从飞机俯瞰汗水湿透的堪萨斯高中球员的时刻。
或许为屋顶上的雄鸡安置一粒紫铜色的风向标
为了它变绿而久等。
“电子湾”上,雪儿的旧衣服在拍卖。
正品保障。我差不多花费50美元买一件无袖装。
广告传递的似乎是雪儿曾有修改这件衣服的意图。
而我明白的是我们拥有比想法更多的选择。
一个叫克莱尔的神经病学学生告诉我世界上有很多克莱尔。
一个被替代,这样彻底。还有多少克莱尔?
纪录片中越是年迈的,
说的谎言越多,因为他们要庇护更多的人。
一个我不喜
欢的同事把孩子带来,而那孩子竟然如此美好,
有尖钉一样的头发,我想抱抱他可是他爸爸也同样不喜欢我。
市区应该有一个人们可以抱抱婴孩的机构。
延巴克图的医院一直开放,
那些医生需要关照太多战栗——他们必须不断用手亲近所有人。
你成不了别人,纵然你买了新衣服,或者是雪儿穿过的。
我的祖母想要与自己拥有的一切埋葬地下,以防万一。
以防万一,我在冰箱里囤积咖啡。
我爱陌生人,那些我注意到的仿佛小学里结识的人——
穿戴着他们所有冬季的装备和谋生的小玩意。
我的铅笔盒总是盛满饼干屑。
众人像对待佛祖一样无视我的存在。
Almost February
Anna McDonald
Timbuktu is no longer a faraway place from childhood.Nor is Mongolia,where people steal dinosaur bones from the ground.
It’s not possible to stay intact forever.
It is possible to carry exotic species in your luggage,
to hide a skull under your cap,to imagine sweaty high-schoolfootball players in Kansas when looking down from an airplane.
It’s possible to place a copper weather vane of a rooster on the roof,
to wait a long time for it to turn green.
On eBay,they are auctioning the old coats of Cher.
Authenticity guaranteed.I almost bought a coat without sleeves for $50.
The ad said Cher probably had intentions to alter it.
We have more choices than we think is something I read.
A neurology student named Claire told me There are many Claires.
One replaces oneself,cellularly.How many Claires?
The older they got in the documentary,
the more lies they told,because they had more people to protect.
A guy I don’t like at work brought his baby in and the baby was perfect,
with spiky hair,I wanted to hold him but the guy didn’t like me either.
There should be a center in town where people can hold infants.
The hospital stayed open in Timbuktu,but the doctors
had to minister to so much horror——they had to reattach people to their hands.
You cannot be anyone else,though you buy a new jacket,or Cher’s old one.
My grandmother wanted to be buried with everything she owned,
just in case.Just in case,I save old coffees in the refrigerator.
I love strangers,whom I recognize as people I knew in grade school——
with all their winter accoutrements and little objects for living.
My pencil case was always full of cracker crumbs.
Nobody recognized me as the Buddha.
——选自《纽约客》2013年6月刊
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