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    猴子再也不住那里了。猴子搬走了,去了肯塔基,带着它的家人。我很开心,因为晚上再也不用听它的狂嘶乱叫,听它的主人们嘭嚓嚓摇滚乐般的动静。那绿色的金属笼子,陶瓷桌面,那说话声音跟吉他似的一家人。猴子,一家人,桌子。都消失了。

    从那时起我们接管了花园。以前我们不敢走进去,因为猴子在那里尖叫,并且龇出它黄黄的牙齿。

    那里有向日葵,大得像火星上的花儿;还有肥厚的鸡冠,花朵漫溢出来像剧院帷幔上深红的裙边。那里有令人头晕的蜜蜂和打着领结的果蝇翻着跟头,在<s>..</s>空中嗡嗡鸣唱。还有很甜很甜的桃树。还有刺玫瑰、大蓟和梨树。野草多得像眯眼睛的星星,蹭得你脚踝痒痒的,直到你用肥皂和水洗净。还有大个青苹果,硬得像膝盖。到处都是那种令人昏昏欲睡的气味:腐烂的木头、潮湿的泥土,以及那蒙了灰尘的蜀葵,像老去的人那白到发蓝的金发一样浓密而馥郁。

    翻开石头,就会有黄色的蜘蛛逃窜出去,畏光且无明的苍白蠕虫在它们的沉睡中翻卷起来。用一根小棍插进沙土里,就会出来几只蓝色的甲虫。还有一路蚂蚁,还有那么多的壳儿脆脆的瓢虫。这是一个花园,看着它,是春天里的一件赏心乐事。可是,慢慢地,从猴子走后,花园就开始自作主张了。花儿不再规矩地待在防止它们长过小径的小砖头后面,野草混了进来。废弃的小汽车像蘑菇一样一夜之间就冒了出来。先是一辆,又来了一辆,然后是那辆没了挡风玻璃的浅蓝色皮卡车<span class="" data-note="一种结合了小型货车和轿车特点的实用车型,车前部形似轿车,后面有车斗。"></span>。不知不觉,猴子花园里充满了沉睡的汽车。

    花园里的东西在以某种方式消失,好像是花园自己把它们给吃了,要不就是它的老头记性,把东西收起来就忘掉了。在牵牛花爬过的那面石墙下的两块石头中间,蕾妮发现了一元钱和一只死老鼠。有一次,我们捉迷藏时,埃迪·法加斯头枕在一棵木槿树下,像瑞普·凡·温克尔<span class="" data-note="Rip Van Winkle,典出华盛顿·欧文(1783—1859)《见闻札记》中的名篇“瑞普·凡·温克尔”。山村农夫温克尔善良懦弱、好酒惧内,一日在山中遇一掮酒老翁,被酒香诱至深谷,见一众奇服异秉的怪人默然会神于九柱戏。老翁加入其中后,温克尔捺不住酒瘾,偷尝仙酒,酣然入睡,岂知这一睡便睡过了独立战争,醒来已是二十年后,家中物是人非,悍妇故去,世上沧桑巨变,新政初行。温克尔找到嫁为人妇的女儿,从此在村中住下来,向过往的旅人讲述自己的奇遇。《见闻札记》被认为是美国本土文学的开山之作,欧文也因此被称为“美国文学之父”。此书国内早有译本。"></span>那样睡了过去,直到有人想起来他还在躲迷藏,才回去找他。<bdo></bdo>

    这个,我想,就是我们去那里的原因。远得让妈妈找不到我们。我们,还有几条住在空车子里的老狗。有一次,我们在那辆蓝色旧皮卡车的后斗里设了个俱乐部。还有,我们喜欢从一辆车顶跳到另一辆车顶,假装它们是巨大的蘑菇。

    渐渐起来一种传言,说别的事物都还没出现之前,这里便有了猴子花园。我们很乐意去想,这个花园可以把东西藏上一千年。在湿漉漉的花儿的根下面,躺着被谋杀的海盗和恐龙的骨头,而独角兽的眼睛变成了煤。

    这里是我曾经想死去的地方,是那天我试过去死的地方,可是,连猴子花园都不愿意收留我。那将是我最后一天去那里。

    是谁说我太大了不能玩这样的游戏了?是谁的话我没有听?我只记得,别人都跑开时,我也想跑,跑上跑下蹿遍猴子花园,像男孩一样快,而不是像萨莉那样,看到袜子上沾了泥巴就尖叫。

    我说,萨莉,来呀。可她没动。她待在路边和提陀还有他的朋友们说话。你想和小孩们玩,那你就玩吧。她说。我留在这里。她想要傲慢的话,就能傲慢起来。于是我离开了。

    那也是她自己的错。我回来时,萨莉正在假装生气……好像是男孩们偷了她的钥匙。请还给我。她说着,用一只柔软的拳头捶打着最近的那个。他们都笑开了。她也是。那是一个我不懂的玩笑。

    我想回去和别的孩子一起玩,他们还在汽车上跳来跳去,还在花园里互相追逐。可萨莉有她自己的游戏。

    一个男孩设计了规则。提陀的一个朋友说,除非你亲我们,要不就拿不回钥匙。萨莉一开始假装很生气,然后就说好吧。就那么简单。

    我不知道为什么。我身体里有什么东西想要扔树枝。有什么东西想要说不,当我看到萨莉走进花园里去,而提陀的伙伴们都在坏笑时。只是亲一下。就好了。每人亲一下。这有什么呢?她说。

    可是,我不知道为什么心里很愤怒。好像有什么不对劲。萨莉走到那辆蓝色旧车后面去亲男孩,拿回她的钥匙,而我却跑上三层楼梯到了提陀家住的地方。他妈妈在熨衬衫。她用一个空的汽水瓶往上喷水,同时抽着一枝烟。

    你儿子和他的朋友偷了萨莉的钥匙,不还给她,除非她亲他们。现在他们就在让她亲他们,爬完三层楼后的我累得上气不接下气地说。

    那些个小家伙。她说,头都没抬一下,继续熨着。

    就这样吗?

    你想要我做什么呢,她说,叫警察?然后继续熨衣服。

    我瞪着她很久,可想不出要说什么,于是跑下三层楼梯回花园,到需要解救的萨莉那里去。我拿了三根大树枝和一块砖头,心想这些应该够了。

    可我到了那里,萨莉说回家吧。那些男孩说走开。我手里拿着砖头觉得自己很蠢。他们都那么瞧着我,好像我才是那个做蠢事的人。这让我觉得很羞愧。

    然后我不知道为什么我得跑开。我得把自己藏在花园的另一边,藏在树丛里,一棵不会介意我躺下来哭很久的树下面。我使劲把眼睛闭起来,像最渺小的星星那样,好让自己不哭。可我还是哭了。我的脸在发烫。身体里的每样东西都在呃逆。

    我在哪里读到过的,在印度,有的祭司可以凭借意志让自己的心脏停跳。我也想用意志让自己的血停止流,心停止跳。我想要死去,化成雨,想要我的眼睛融化,像两条黑蜗牛一样溶进土里。我想呀想呀,闭上眼睛一心一意地想。等我站起来时,我的裙子变绿了,头也痛了起来。

    我看着自己穿着白袜和圆鞋的脚。它们好像很遥远,似乎不再是我的脚了。花园曾经是那么好玩的去处,可现在似乎也不是我的了。

    <h3 class="ter">The Monkey Garden</h3>

    The monkey doesn't live there anymore. The monkey moved——to Kentucky——and took his people with him. And I was glad because I couldn't listen anymore to his wild screaming at night, the twangy yakkety-yak of the people who owned him. The greeal cage, the porcelain table top, the family that spoke like guitars. Monkey, family, table. All gone.

    And it was theook over the garden we had been afraid to go into when the monkey screamed and showed its yellow teeth.

    There were sunflowers big as flowers on Mars and thick cobs bleeding the deep red fringe of theater curtains. There were dizzy bees and bow-tied fruit flies turning somersaults and humming in the air. Sweet sweet peach trees. Thorn roses and thistle and pears. Weeds like so many squinty-eyed stars and brush that made your ad ittil you washed with soap and water. There were big green apples hard as knees. And everywhere the sleepy smell of rotting wood, damp earth and dusty hollyhocks thid perfumy like the blue-blond hair of the dead.

    Yellow spiders ran wheurned rocks over and pale worms blind and afraid of light rolled over in their sleep. Poke a sti the sandy soil and a few blue-skinned beetles would appear, an avenue of ants, so many crusty lady bugs. This was a garden, a wonderful thing to look at in the spring. But bit by bit, after the monkey left, the garden began to take over itself. Flowers stopped obeying the little bricks that kept them from growing beyond their paths. Weeds mixed in. Dead cars appeared ht like mushrooms. First one and then another and then a pale blue pickup with the front windshield missing. Before you k, the monkey garden became filled with sleepy cars.

    Things had a way of disappearing in the garden, as if the garden itself ate them, or, as if with its old-man memory, it put them away and fot them. Nenny found a dollar and a dead mouse between two rocks ione wall where the m glories climbed, and once when we were playing hide-and-seek, Eddie Vargas laid his head beh a hibiscus tree and fell asleep there like a Rip Van Wiil somebody remembered he was in the game a back to look for him.

    This, I suppose, was the reason ent there. Far away from where our mothers could find us. We and a few old dogs who lived ihe empty cars. We made a clubhouse on the back of that old blue pickup. And besides, we liked to jump from the roof of one car to another and pretend they were giant mushrooms.

    Somebody started the lie that the monkey garden had been there before anything. We liked to think the garden could hide things for a thousand years. There beh the roots of soggy flowers were the bones of murdered pirates and dinosaurs, the eye of a uni turo coal.

    This is where I wao die and where I tried one day but not even the monkey garden would have me. It was the last day I would go there.

    Who was it that said I was getting too old to play the games? Who was it I didn't listen to? I only remember that whehers ran, I wao run too, up and down and through the monkey garden, fast as the boys, not like Sally who screamed if she got her stogs muddy.

    I said, Sally, e on, but she wouldn't. She stayed by the curb talking to Tito and his friends. Play with the kids if you want, she said, I'm staying here. She could be stuck-up like that if she wao, so I just left.

    It was her own fault too. When I got back Sally retending to be mad……something about the boys having stolen her keys. Please give them bae, she said pung the  oh a soft fist. They were laughing. She was too. It was a joke I didn't get.

    I wao go back with the other kids who were still jumping on cars, still chasing each other through the garden, but Sally had her own game.

    One of the boys ied the rules. One of Tito's friends said you 't get the keys baless you kiss us and Sally preteo be mad at first but she said yes. It was that simple.

    I don't know why, but something inside me wao throw a stick. Something wao say no when I watched Sally going into the garden with Tito's buddies all grinning. It was just a kiss, that's all. A kiss for eae. So what, she said.

    Only how e I felt angry inside. Like something wasn't right. Sally went behind that old blue pickup to kiss<tt></tt> the boys a her keys back, and I ran up three flights of stairs to where Tito lived. His mother was ironing shirts. She rinkling water on them from ay pop bottle and smoking a cigarette.

    Your son and his friends stole Sally's keys and now they won't give them bales she kisses them and right now they're making her kiss them, I said all out of breath from the three flights of stairs.

    Those kids, she said, not looking up from her ironing.

    That's all?

    What do you wao do, she said, call the cops? A on ironing.

    I looked at her a long time, but couldn't think of anything to say, and ran back dowhree flights to the garden where Sally o be saved. I took three big sticks and a brid figured this was enough.

    But when I got there Sally said go home. Those boys said leave us alone. I felt stupid with my brick. They all looked at me as if I was the ohat was crazy and made me feel ashamed.

    And then I don't know why but I had to run away. I had to hide myself at>99lib?</a> the other end of the garden, in the jungle part, under a tree that wouldn't mind if I lay down and cried a long time. I closed my eyes like tight stars so that I wouldn't, but I did. My face felt hot. Everything inside hiccupped.

    I read somewhere in India there are priests who  will their heart to stop beating. I wao will my blood to stop, my heart to quit its pumping. I wao be dead, to turn into the rain, my eyes melt into the ground like two blaails. I wished and wished. I closed my eyes and willed it, but when I got up my dress was green and I had a headache.

    I looked at my feet in their white socks and ugly round shoes. They seemed far away. They didn't seem to be my feet anymore. And the garden that had been such a good place to play didn't seem miher.

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