<p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">年味的考古学</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:20px;">文/明月清泉</span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">鞭炮的红屑在记忆里发霉 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">春联的墨迹被防盗门吞噬 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">一桌年夜饭在手机屏幕间冷却 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">我们围坐 却各自漂流 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">儿时的年味是一串密码 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">藏在奶奶的围裙褶皱里 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">在父亲手写的福字背面发酵 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">被母亲蒸笼里的热气 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">熏染成永不褪色的朱红 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><br></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">如今我们拆开真空包装的年货 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">像打开一件件出土文物 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">试图拼凑出完整的年轮 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">却只触摸到 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">塑料薄膜下 </span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">苍白的味道</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">即使拆开红包的声音</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">也再没有溪流的清纯</span></p>