配图 / Giulia Rosa

伪装成爱情诗的激浪广告

关于我们婚姻，可能靠谱的理由
我想到了这些：因为你喜欢穿粉色衣服，却写着
关于子弹和墓碑的诗。因为你在找不到钥匙时，
就大声喊它们回来，被自己的幽默
逗得哈哈大笑。因为你能握住手枪，
给猪开膛。因为你能记住歌曲，甚至是三十年前的广告歌，
在吸尘时唱出来。你的手很柔软。因为当我们搬家时，
你在盒子的内壁上列出打包的东西。
因为你认为对天鹅的赞誉言过其实。
因为你开车送我去火车站。你开车送我去
明尼阿波利斯。你开车送我去普罗维登斯。
因为你给读过的每一页都划下划线，圈出
你认为重要的东西，并在
你认为我应该认为重要的东西旁边加星星，
在边缘记下所有惹你生气的人，
而我的名字几乎从未出现在其中。
在弗里达·卡罗食谱中找到的猪肉菜。
因为当你读那篇关于里尔克的文章时，
你把几乎全篇都都划了线，
除了里尔克说爱的意义是否定自我
并被火焰吞噬的那部分。因为当灯关掉，
窗帘拉上，还有一张额外的床单钉在
窗户上时，你仍然相信外面有人
能看到你。还有五个夏天前的某一天，
当你无法给车加油，你的冰箱
空空如也——连剩饭或调料都没有——
只有一瓶二十盎司的激浪，
你用最后一分钱买下它，
因为你曾无意中听到我说喜欢它。

作者 / [美国]马修·奥尔兹曼
翻译 / 光诸

MOUNTAIN DEW COMMERCIAL DISGUISED AS A LOVE POEM

Here’s what I’ve got, the reasons why our marriage
might work: Because you wear pink but write poems
about bullets and gravestones. Because you yell
at your keys when you lose them, and laugh,
loudly, at your own jokes. Because you can hold a pistol,
gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials
from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming.
You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents
of what you packed were written inside the boxes.
Because you think swans are overrated.
Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me
to Minneapolis. You drove me to Providence.
Because you underline everything you read, and circle
the things you think are important, and put stars next
to the things you think I should think are important,
and write notes in the margins about all the people
you’re mad at and my name almost never appears there.
Because you make that pork recipe you found
in the Frida Kahlo Cookbook. Because when you read
that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing
except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self
and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights
are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed
over the windows, you still believe someone outside
can see you. And one day five summers ago,
when you couldn’t put gas in your car, when your fridge
was so empty—not even leftovers or condiments—
there was a single twenty-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew,
which you paid for with your last damn dime
because you once overheard me say that I liked it.

Matthew Olzmann