It all started on that hot summer day.

A series of major events took place that summer: the US Congress agreed to the president's plan to send troops to North Korea, a vicious incident at the United Nations headquarters in which a prostitute threw rotten eggs at the secretary-general, and our government protested against a certain country's involvement in China's four major inventions......

However, these major events have nothing to do with our island city.

It was a perverted hot summer in the island city. It is said that a rural aunt picked two baskets of eggs into the island city to sell, accidentally fell, the eggs fell to the ground and broken, the old lady quickly picked up, the result was dumbfounded, a burnt fried egg made the aunt want to cry without tears. Because of the continuous high temperature weather, the island city government issued a holiday announcement, the announcement said that in order to resist the invasion of high temperatures, all the island city organs, factories, mines, enterprises, schools, shopping malls, entertainment units are all on vacation, summer vacation for five days - this is the longest summer vacation in the history of the island city, and the residents of the island city cheered and supported the government's humane policy.

During the day, it is almost impossible to see any moving objects in the island city, except for the wild poisonous sunlight that flashes like sharp blades on the buildings and concrete roads. Time seems to stand still, there are no birds in the sky, and there are no people in the streets. A few stray dogs hid in the dark corners of the city's walls, panting and sticking out their tongues, and the trees and flowers on the roadside were yellow. In those days, the people of the island city who did not have to go to work either stayed at home to watch TV and eat melon seeds, or went to the hotel to open an air-conditioned room to play mahjong, or found a cool tea house while sipping on their father's tea while pulling the idle eggs that did not hurt or itch.

At night, however, the island city comes alive – the vast sea blows a moist wind, and the huge coconut palms on the esplanade start like giant windmills. People poured out of their nests, the streets and alleys were full of traffic, and the buildings and halls were brilliantly lit. Yes, such a cool and comfortable night is not easy to come by, and even thieves, rotten boys, and gangsters who are used to going out at night do not want to make trouble by stealing chickens and dogs on such a night. The people of the island city cherish and enjoy this peaceful and peaceful life of day and night and black and white for the best reason.

On the last day of the holiday, the island city was flooded with a group of distinguished guests, who were wealthy golfers from the mysterious merchant capital. They have bronzed skin, beautiful hats, and bizarre blouses. They carry clubs that look like golden clubs on their shoulders, and behind them are elongated Humvees that roar like tanks. The people and vehicles are vast, the scene is spectacular, the yellow dust fills the blue sky of our island city, and the island city that has been silent for many days has a lively and busy scene. During the day, under the scorching sun, the wealthy businessmen in colorful and green jerseys swung their clubs, and the small balls swirled like golden eggs and fell on the withered grass and cracked and narrow roads of the island city. At night, the wealthy businessmen crowded the hotels, restaurants, dance halls, and nightclubs in the island city. There is no doubt about it: the island city's tourism industry, which has been hit hard by the continuous high temperatures, has created an exciting myth of economic growth at the point of collapse, and dozens of well-known and non-famous domestic and foreign media have rushed to cover the event. The government of the island city also proudly announced to the world in a timely manner that the island city will make every effort to develop the golf business, and golf will become the pillar industry of the island city's economy. Soon, the World Golf Organization selected our island city as the "World Golf Leisure Mecca", and the island city is the safest, most comfortable and most beautiful golf leisure tourism city in the world......

In that hot summer, the thrill of the island city about to prosper and become rich and powerful because of golf spread happily in the hearts of the people of the island city. Many years later, they still remember with joy that it was the happiest, proudest and most unforgettable hot time of their lives!

It was also in that hot summer that I, a flat-headed editor, became a "famous" poet in the island city.

I don't know when it began, a few crazy and crazy people in our island city who were full of alcohol and a bucket of paste rushed to start writing poems, so the streets and alleys were full of poets, and poetry was recited everywhere. I envy my friends who can write poetry. I suddenly found out that I could write poetry, which was really good, really amazing. Every friend must gather, every gathering must drink, every wine must be poetry, every poetry must cry, every cry must be beautiful. It's really interesting.

** The temple of poetry is filled with too many stinky fish and rotten shrimp, the sacred poetry has been violated, and the poet has become a symbol of the second goods, synonymous with neurosis. So much so that I have to tell you honestly that poet is not a good title in our island city. When you go out on the street, you accidentally bump into someone, and they stare at you and say, "Are you a poet?" ”

Are you a poet?

At this time, you must understand that people are not complimenting you, but the world is scolding you - "crazy!" Rubbish! ”

That summer, something even bigger happened, when the American poet Gosri won the World Berno Poetry Prize.

Poets of all sizes in the island city knew about Gosri as an exotic poet, read some of his poems, and knew him as a gay poet with an obscene image. That summer, the Youth Poetry Association of our island city held a special poetry recital of Gosri, a young and beautiful beautiful poet on the stage sweating and saliva flying aloud to read Gosri's masterpiece "Flowing Water", the male poets listening to the recitation looked at the beautiful poet, swallowed a handful of saliva, immersed in infinite obscenity. When the news of Gosri's winning the poetry prize reached the island city, it seriously stimulated the male poets of our island city, and they were in an uproar, silent, and finally, disdainful.

I am one of those poets.

I was gravely jealous of Gosri's award. I'm not jealous of the million meters he got - that one doesn't appeal to me, I live on this small island of the Celestial Empire, which is thousands of miles away from the United States, I have been on this island since I was very young, and I have never planned to leave here - I have no interest in those fancy tickets at all, and I can't spend them. I am jealous of the report on TV: After the high poet won the award, he actually fascinated thousands of girls in the world!

This is really the most bloody plot - an ugly gay poet who won world awards for several poems and charmed thousands of girls around the world...... How can this make a normal and healthy male poet like me embarrassed? A strong sense of justice came over me, and I told myself: I must go beyond Gosri! Gotta win next year's Berno Poetry Prize!

I thought, if I win the award, won't I be able to change the chaotic situation after the gay poet won the award and save those stupid girls from the fire? Of course, the most realistic way to say is that if I win the award, my wife Die will not lower her eyebrows and speak softly to me? My mother-in-law and father-in-law still don't look at me like a spring in March? My career, my future, is not from now on? …… It was something that made me laugh when I fell asleep.

With my goal set, I started to act.

That summer, I often skipped work and locked myself at home to write poetry. For this, I offended the leader and angered Butterfly and her parents. Writing poetry is very hard, and I am often in the midst of unwarranted anxiety and inexplicable irritability. I didn't take drugs, but I always felt like a drug addict. My soul is always floating in the air, and my mind is always dancing with a dizziness. At one point, I even hallucinated that I was trapped in a huge gasoline can, and my chest was stuffy and I couldn't breathe. So, I frantically searched for a lighter in my room, and I could almost hear a voice in my chest roaring viciously: "Wow-extinguish!" Destroy - extinguish! "Yes, that summer, I often wondered how I could destroy with the world.

No wonder some people say: The poet is hysterical, no different from ****.