In the old neighborhood, each funeral parlor

在我原來居住的街區，殯儀館的葬禮

is more elaborate than the last.

一次比一次奢華。

The alleys smell of cops, pistols bumping their thighs,

巷子裏有一股警察味，手槍撞擊著他們的大腿，

each chamber steeled with a slim blue bullet.

每一個彈腔塞一枚細長的藍子彈。

Low-rent balconies stacked to the sky.

廉價租屋的陽臺一直摞到天上。

A boy plays tic-tac-toe on a moon

一個男孩對著月亮下井字棋，

crossed by TV antennae, dreams

棋盤是交叉的電視天線，夢中

he has swallowed a blue bean.

他吞下一顆藍豆子。

It takes root in his gut, sprouts

豆子在肚中紮根，發芽，

and twines upward, the vines curling

螺旋生長，藤須彎彎曲曲

around the sockets and locking them shut.

爬上並鎖住他的眼窩。

And this sky, knotting like a dark tie?

夜空，一條打了結的黑領帶？

The patroller, disinterested, holds all the beans.

巡警，面無表情，握著所有的豆子。

August. The mums nod past, each a prickly heart on a sleeve.

八月。菊花在路過時點頭，露出帶刺的心。