两个站台,镶在窄窄的车票上,像两块巨大的磁石,一块连着雾霾,一块连着乡愁。挤在动车上的方言,长一句,短一句,把回家的夜色,说成梦里的鼾声。老家斑驳的土墙,越来越矮,风雨一抬脚,就能迈进去。故乡泥土中躬身的背影,越来越瘦,一听到久违的方言,就会扯起喉咙,唤我小名,常常啼出血来。屋檐上的风铃,吹响吉祥。五谷、杂粮、羊 Two platforms, set in a narrow ticket, like two huge magnet, one attached to the haze, a nostalgia. Crowd in the car on the dialect, long one, short sentence, the night of the home, said the dream of snoring. Home mottled wall, getting shorter and shorter, rain and winds, you can move forward. Hometown bend in the back of the body, more and more thin, heard a long absence in dialects, it will pull his throat, call me nickname, often crying bleeding. Campanula on the eaves, sounded auspicious. Grains, grains, sheep