看板 poetry 關於我們 聯絡資訊
UNCLES They had broken teeth And billy club scars But we didn't notice Or mind They were uncles. It was their job To come home every summer From the North And tell my father He wasn't no man And make my mother Cry and long For Denver, Jersey City, Philadelphia. They were uncles. Who noticed how Much They drank And acted womanish With they do-rags We were nieces. And they were almost Always good For a nickel Sometimes a dime. [by Alice Walker, more to come ...] -- ╭─╮╭╮ ╭╮╮ ╭╮ │╰╯│╰╮╭╭╮│ │╭─╮╭ ╮│╰╮"At the touch of love everyone ╭╮││ ╯││││ │╭ │││││ ╯ becomes a poet." ╰─╯╰╰╯╰─│╰╯╯╰╰╯╰╰╯╰╰╯ -- Plato ───── ╰─╯ ─────────── http://darkshadows.org/~skyhawk -- ※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.csie.ntu.edu.tw) ◆ From: 61.216.84.59