疫情下的棒球季

Baseball Season

By Allen

My son's teammates stumble onto

the bus: joking, scheming, laughing, 

masks down around chins, 

or dangling off one ear. 

I insist on driving him myself, 

because he is only fifteen and is

not yet vaccinated, and because

I am still scared of this thing.

He is the only player not on 

that oversized yellow taxi,

that long, narrow room on wheels, 

which makes me "that" parent.

And so I drive him, and his pleading,

which had turned to anger, 

has now turned to understanding,

or something close to that.

We trail the bus deep into the suburbs,

snaking past strip malls and office parks,

saying little but taking care

of each other as best we can.

《棒球季》

By Allen

我儿子的舍友们东倒西歪

上了车：讲笑话，干坏事，哈哈笑，

口罩耷拉在下巴，

或者吊在一个耳朵下。

我坚持亲自送他，

因为他才十五岁，而且

还没有打疫苗，还因为

我仍然担心这个事。

他是唯一一个运动员不在

那辆超大的黄色出租车上，

那个轮子上的，长的，狭窄的空间，

这使得我成为了“那个”家长。

于是我开车送他，他的哀求，

变成了愤怒，

已经变成了理解，

或者接近于理解。

我们跟着大巴进入了郊区，

蛇行经过商场和办公区，

交谈甚少但是彼此

照顾，尽我们所能。