下一代的哀伤--理查德.爱伦.泰勒

我开始，像我之前的妈妈一样，
划掉名字。她活到阅读完
所有她朋友的讣告。在我这一代，我
曾经吻过的第一个女孩去世了，肺炎并发症。

我一路看电邮，从非常重要的事情
到戛然而止，没有任何感觉，
好似一颗高性能的子弹击穿我
没有击中心脏，或脑瓜或骨头。

后来：正如我我十六岁时
记得的疼痛，在一种互相挤压的状态中，
搭车去湖边--父母允许的，教会主办的
替代一趟真正的海滩之旅
有夏威夷风情酒吧和性的诱惑--
在一辆红色六四年雪佛兰羚羊车
的后座里看出，雷驾驶着这辆车，梅布尔
不时回头顾盼，眨眼示意，露齿而笑。

很快这段恋情就结束了，我们继续向前，
但永远忘不了那个日期，当时
四十年后我看见她，我们仍然微笑着
对那段搭乘开玩笑，纳闷雷和梅布尔
之间究竟发生了什么。
I have begun, like my mother before me,
to cross out names. She lived to read the obituaries
of all her friends. In my generation, the first girl
I ever kissed is dead, complications of pneumonia.

I saw the email on the way from something
important to something suddenly not, and felt
nothing, as if a high-powered bullet had passed
through me without hitting heart or head or bone.

Later: the ache as I remembered
when we were 16, in a state
of mutual crush, and rode to the lake—
that parent-approved, church-sponsored
alternative to a real beach trip
with tiki bars and carnal temptations—
and made out in the back seat of a red ’64
Chevy Impala with Ray driving and Mable
looking back now and then to wink and grin.

Soon the romance was over and we moved on,
but never forgot that date, and when
I saw her forty years later we still joked
and smiled about that ride and wondered
whatever happened to Ray and Mable.

“The Next Generation of Mourning” by Richard Allen Taylor from Armed and Luminous. © Main Street Rag Publishing Company, 2016.