生辰不吉
只是那时我还不懂她的意思。
那天我们玩了同样的游戏。我们不知道她要死了。我们装作头往后仰,四肢软弱无力,像死人的一样垂挂着。我们学她的样子笑。学她的样子说话,那种盲人说话的时候不转动头部的样子。我们模仿她必须被人托起头颈才能喝水的样子。她从一个绿色的锡杯里把水慢慢地吮出来喝掉。水是热的,味道像金属。露西笑起来,拉切尔也笑了。我们轮流扮演她。我们像鹦鹉学舌一样,用微弱的声音呼喊托奇过来洗碗。那很容易做到。
可我们不懂。她等待死亡很长时间了。我们忘了。也许她很愧疚。也许她很窘迫:死亡花了这么多年时间。孩子们想要做成孩子,而不是在那里洗碗涮碟,给爸爸熨衬衫。丈夫也想再要一个妻子。
于是她死了。听我念诗的婶婶。
于是我们开始做起了那些梦。
Born Bad
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ty like my moto look at. In Lupe of tographs.
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o imagine rong, ting er, clean srokes, not bent and droicky yello. t bulb. t bulb always burning.
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But I t anyone. Like my aunt reet one day in otcher.
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