<p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">文明杖的银柄上</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">停着一只民国怀表的秒针</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">而你的指纹，正被扫描成——</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">时光的最后一枚像素</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">那根文明杖叩响青石</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">在光滑的界面内外</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">丈量着旗袍开衩处漏出的风</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">如何与全息投影的霓虹</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">拧成一股绳</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">线装书里掉出的书签</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">还印着当年的火车时刻表</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">扫码时却跳出三维地图</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">老座钟的摆锤晃了晃把齿轮的锈</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">晃成数据流里的星</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">你用毛笔蘸取电子墨</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">在触摸屏写"故乡"二字</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">笔画间漫出的不是墨香</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">是5G信号穿过巷弄的轻响</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">像当年邮差自行车的铃铛</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">盘扣解开第三颗时</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">月光从民国的窗棂</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">漏进元宇宙的裂缝</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">你同时看见——</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">祖父在电报局拍发的密语</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">和孙辈在元宇宙种植的数字玫瑰</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">正沿着同一条时光的河</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">漂流</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">砚台里的墨还凝着民国的霜</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">你蘸取时，指尖划过的电容屏</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">正弹出祖父手稿的电子存档</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">那些洇了泪的笔画</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">在代码里依然保持着颤抖的弧度</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">老式收音机在角落吞吐杂音</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">某段频率突然接住</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">孙辈戴着耳机哼的调子</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">旋律里，留声机的铜喇叭</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">与蓝牙耳机的金属网</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">正共用同一组声波的褶皱</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;"> </span></p> <p class="ql-block">最后一颗盘扣解开时</p><p class="ql-block">风从元宇宙的舷窗钻进来</p><p class="ql-block">吹动你鬓角的白发</p><p class="ql-block">像吹动祖父书房里</p><p class="ql-block">那页没来得及装订的信</p><p class="ql-block">字迹在时光里洇开</p><p class="ql-block">一半是钢笔的蓝</p><p class="ql-block">一半是像素的光</p>