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英文小诗赏析:Cement Guitar
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All morning I've remembered St. Ignacio's bruise,jaundiced seagulls over Quonset, November and the gross white sky. Days so long you walk home fifteen miles from the restaurant.* g( z) W! V6 ~5 A, m6 a' B
Same waitress every day of your life and she never remembers your allergies.
6 F$ U0 m6 R+ _! G; ^( h Nothing on the map but scone crumbs and a drop of tea. Just manifold food and a dead request to bury the last of your seven receipts.
7 r9 s: E/ z' n4 B Mother of foster-wit,father of straw,I can see how silence takes the place of those who cut their thoughts in stone before they need them.( n2 T4 t4 H, P4 y
Stone is the past,and the past is a form of flattery.. {7 Q. N; h! N
Last winter,groups of children sent letters in sadness for the late Christmas suicide.
3 e( M5 R: y% } Addressed to those who managed the fishery,who named the docks and decided the colors of unfinished boats,the only way to read them was alive.9 S; J* h9 Q: n# Q# e9 V
To think out loud about those children's names was to forget what you meant by dying.9 R4 U- z- f8 \+ s; E
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