When he woke up in the morning, Yang was still asleep in the office, and he was too tired lately.

The fog rose in the south of the mountain, and when Zhang Mu was brushing his teeth, Director Xu entered the courtyard of the police station through the fog, and there were still five minutes before the shift was handed over at eight o'clock.

Zhang Mian slept well last night, although the heating effect of the air conditioner was not good, but he had been working hard, in its rhythmic noise, Zhang Mian quickly fell asleep.

Recently, there is finally good news in the family, Zhang Mian's mother has set up a shop, she can finally stop being a doctor, and her mother's hand that holds the needle all her life can finally not be tortured by drug allergies.

In the past few days, her parents have been busy with the store, and there is something for her parents to do, which makes Zhang Mian feel gratified, and she is also grateful to the people who helped her mother along the way, so that she can guard a small store in her old age.

Unlike my grandmother's last years, picking up rags in the cold wind and heat, we as children and grandchildren can't do anything.

Zhang Mian's friend learned about his mother's store during a casual conversation, and was willing to provide a computer that had been idle for three years to Zhang Mian's mother for free to install monitoring.

This four-year-old eldest brother has been extending a helping hand when Zhang Mian is in a lot of hardship and helpless, and Zhang Mian has not thought of how to repay, and he has no ability to repay.

It was nearly nine o'clock in the morning, a friend drove over to pick up Zhang Mian, when he passed the Pingwei Bridge, the fog was thicker, the sun was wrapped in layers of fog, and became gentle, Zhang Mian could look at it directly, without worrying about hurting his eyes.

I ate a bowl of beef soup in Pingwei, the soup taste is a little light, and the chili oil is not enough to taste.

Beef soup is to Zhang's city what ramen is to Lanzhou.

Lanzhou is also Zhang Mian's second hometown, and Zhang Mian is a blessed person.

After taking the computer and returning to Shannan, Zhang Mian began to sleep after taking a shower, and was woken up by a courier phone call at almost two o'clock in the afternoon, and the books Zhang Mian bought had been delivered to the police station.

This is a set of three books that Zhang Mu has loved for a long time: Chinese Poetry 2018 "Selected Online Poems of the Year", "Selected Works of Newly Discovered Poets", and "Selected Works of Poets of the Year".

I have been fond of poetry since I was a teenager, and I have been entangled in reading and writing poetry until I was about 30 years old, but I didn't expect that after a few years, Zhang Mian still did not give up his love for poetry.

There is a joke on the Internet that men are single-minded, no matter how they grow over the years and how weak their bodies are, they always like eighteen-year-old girls.

Zhang Mian does not deny that this paragraph speaks to the hearts of most men, but for Zhang Mian, poetry is much more important than an eighteen-year-old girl.

When Zhang Mian was in high school, if anyone published an article in newspapers and magazines, it was definitely an enviable thing for his classmates.

It is the envy of respect for literature from the heart.

Zhang Mian published dozens of poems throughout his high school years, and in Fengcheng No. 1 Middle School, he was also a different kind of character besides bad grades.

Zhang Mian's classmates will introduce Zhang Mian to others: My classmate Zhang Mian is a poet.

The person being introduced will immediately look at Zhang Mu in surprise, as if to see some clues from his scruffy beard.

In the years when Zhang Mian was in high school, hazy poetry was all the rage, and the works of poets such as Gu Cheng, Haizi, and Wang Guozhen were copied and recited in books.

It's like Canadian Wu Yifan was printed on a T-shirt.

After going to college, Zhang Mian basically only read and didn't write, and basically no one in college knew that Zhang Mian, who was okay in other aspects except for bad grades, wrote poetry.

Then there is a large-scale service blind date show, which is the one with twenty-four female guests.

There are no less than three male guests who admit that they are poets in their personal introductions.

The result was miserable, and the female guest quickly turned off the lights and drove the poet off the stage at the risk of compensation for the damage of the lamp.

As if to express, girl, get a person with this kind of feathers.

Zhang Mian finished reading it with a smile, haha, poet, you are stupid, why don't you say that you are a philosopher.

You see how much you look like a dog when you get off stage.

The aftermath of the Tang Dynasty only left a gentle wind in the eighties.

Poetry is old, or waiting for Nirvana!

Zhang Mian's high school classmates are now scattered in various cities, and a few people who know that Zhang Mian's writing poetry may have forgotten Zhang Mian as a person.

Who will remember the boy leaning against the window in a daze, he was looking for a moment and a point, transforming the scenes he saw and thought into lines of words of different lengths.

Coming to you in the maverick way of poetry.

Towards you who love Zhang.

It was you who accompanied me through so many long nights, it was you who made me feel warm in the missing world, and it was you who gave me the courage to continue to write.

The poem "So" is for you, good night.

……

so

I don't know if all choices are the same

In the winter I chose snowflakes

Is it a catkins in the summer

The days began to numb

so

A former boy chasing the wind

Is not the opponent of time

Love can be chosen

Family affection can be hidden

Friendship can be remembered

so

Does it take time to make a decision?

I endure it when I feel like crying

I endure when I miss you

Thinking about everything I felt was uncontrollable

so

Am I guilty of such an unconditional surrender

Surrender the hand of time

Surrender to the tenderness that has passed

Surrender to you and I can't give filial piety to the ancestors

so

I can't choose the raw

Is it also a death in the inability to choose?

I was hopeless when I died

I felt sad

Feel your shadow at the end of the darkness to the boundless

so

I can get peace and tranquility that has nothing to do with the world

It's none of your business

It has nothing to do with me either

so

What am I, who am I alive or dead

Or lowly or glorious

so

How that means

My humble world

My ignorant world

I will live and I will die

What do I have to do with the world?