重讀這首舊詩，似乎又嘗到了上個世紀六十年代美國動蕩不安的記憶與感覺。

當然這中間也多少摻雜了些鄉愁。

〈這黃昏〉

一定有觸鬚自陰濕的角落

伸入這黃昏

風從東邊來

雨從東邊來

泡沫激蕩，在遙遠遙遠的海岬

成一個鹹鹹的苦笑在你嘴角

喜歡逢人便打賭海鷗的撲翅不會使他著涼的

那年輕水手此刻正在酒吧裡替他的女伴裝上

長長的假睫毛使她看不清鐘樓上警告的手勢

他們合謀灌醉了晚天又爭引燎原的慾火

焚石獅子的盲眼

只等它瘋了的尾巴搗落最後一盞燈

便動手打造一個不鏽鋼的太陽讓明天驚奇

整個下午你躺在花傘下讀一則護膚油的廣告

靜聽一個紅銅色的聲音踢弄一只貝殼

「芝加哥的黑人又在遊行了

我可不讓黑人作我的鄰居」

1966.10.27

THIS EVENING

by William Marr

there's got to be whiskers from some damp corners

poking into this evening

the wind comes from the east

the rain comes from the east

in a faraway seaport foams gush

and force a salty smile on the corner of your mouth

the young sailor who likes to wager he won’t catch cold

from seagulls’ flapping wings is presently at a bar putting

long fake eyelashes on his girl so she won’t see clearly

the warning signal from the bell tower

they conspire to get the evening sky drunk and ignite

the flames of passion to burn the blind eyes of the stone lion

and wait for its maddening tail to strike down the last lamp

so they can begin forging a sun of stainless steel to surprise tomorrow

all afternoon you lie under an umbrella reading a skin lotion ad

quietly listening to a tan voice kicking an empty seashell

“ the blacks are holding a demonstration again

I don’t want them to be my neighbors”

1966.10.27