by Mylène Dressler

The man is doing something on his lawn that I dont understand.

As I pass， hes cleaning a long canvas strap with a dull blade， as if hes sharpening it. The strap is suspended， stretched between two trees. He nods at me， smiles from under his cowboy hat. I used to live in this neighborhood in Dallas， on this very street. But I dont remember him. His beard is white， long， pointed. The red in his cheeks matches the red in his tie-dyed T-shirt. I nod and smile back， but then continue down the street， marveling at the new houses.

When I return to the corner， the man is standing on the strap suspended between the trees. Hes walking， bouncing. In the time it took me to wander the length of the block， hes pulled two thick 1）crash pads onto the grass， shed his 2）moccasins， and hopped up. As he bounces off I ask him how long hes been tightrope-walking.

“Not a tightrope.” He shakes a finger.“A slackline， girl. Since October. I cant do much yet. Want to try？”

“I have the wrong shoes on.”

“Naw， girl. People do this in anything.”

Im scared of things that are unstable， narrow. All my life， Ive tried to avoid them. But Im in my 40s. Time itself is narrowing in front of me. I find myself suddenly kicking off my 3）clogs， standing in my socks. The stranger takes the dull 4）spatula and cleans the dirt from the line. I ask his name.

“Merlin.”

He explains that I should get my right foot up first. I do. The strap， only an inch or so wide， starts shaking wildly.

“Just your nerves， girl. 5）Pay no heed. Hop the other foot up. Ill hold you. Keep your eyes straight ahead， dont look down. When you think youre going to fall， just bend your knees.”

I hold fast to his shoulders. Hes steady and warm， so comforting that when Ive finally got two feet on the line， I cant bring myself to let go. The strap is still vibrating， and I dont see how Ill … then I remember. Look straight ahead. If you think youre going to fall， bend your knees.

I feel it. That strange moment when you forget yourself， forget that theres anything at all unlikely about meeting a man in a cowboy hat and suspending yourself above his grass. Its only for a few seconds. But I let go.

I grab Merlin， laughing， and hop off：

“You are a magician.”

“A poet too. Want to hear？

“Of falling，” I say.

“But I told you what to do.”

Bend your knees. Its not a tightrope. Its a slackline.

I have never forgotten： Embrace the strange shaking. It is not the rope. It is you.

有個(gè)男人在他家的草坪上做著什么，我不大懂。

我路過的時(shí)候，他正在用一把鈍刀清理著一條長長的帆布帶子，像是在磨刀似的。帶子懸空掛著，系在兩棵樹之間。他向我點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭，從牛仔帽底下露出一張笑臉。我以前就一直住在達(dá)拉斯這附近，正好就在這條街上，但我不記得有他這么一個(gè)人。他的胡子又白又長，呈山羊須狀。發(fā)紅的臉色和他身上的扎染紅T恤很搭。我也沖他點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭，笑了笑，然后繼續(xù)沿著街道走，驚訝于這里多了這么些新房子。

當(dāng)我折回到這街角時(shí)，那個(gè)男人正站在懸掛在兩棵樹之間的帶子上。他在上面走走跳跳。在我剛才沿著長長的街區(qū)閑逛的時(shí)候，他已經(jīng)在草坪上鋪了兩塊厚厚的緩沖墊，脫掉了軟皮鞋，跳到了帶子上。等他跳下來后，我問他玩繃索有多長時(shí)間了。

他晃著一根手指說道：“不是繃索，是軟繩啊，姑娘。從十月份開始的。我玩得還不怎么好。你要不要試試？”

“我穿的鞋子不適合。”

“沒事兒的，姑娘。別人穿啥都這么玩?！?/p>

我一直都懼怕不穩(wěn)當(dāng)而且狹窄的東西。我一輩子都在躲著這些東西。但現(xiàn)在我已經(jīng)四十多歲了，時(shí)間本身在我面前已經(jīng)不那么寬裕了。我一下子甩掉木底鞋，穿著襪子站在那兒。這個(gè)陌生人拿鈍刀清理掉帶子上的泥土。我問他叫什么名字。

“梅林?！?/p>

他給我解釋說，我應(yīng)該先上右腳。我照做了。帶子只有一英寸（約2.54厘米）左右寬，我一踩上去，繩帶立刻劇烈晃動起來。

“那只是因?yàn)槟憔o張，姑娘。別在意。另一只腳也踩上去，我扶著你。眼睛一直向前看，別往下看。如果感覺自己要掉下去了，就把膝蓋彎下來?！?/p>

我緊緊地抓著他的肩膀。他很牢靠、溫暖，讓我感覺很安穩(wěn)，所以當(dāng)我把兩只腳都踩在了帶子上后，也不敢放開雙手。帶子還在晃，我不知道該怎么辦。這時(shí)，我想起了：要目視前方，如果感覺自己要掉下去，就彎曲膝蓋。

我感受到了，那一個(gè)前所未有的時(shí)刻：忘掉自己，忘掉了那些完全不大可能的事——遇到一個(gè)戴著牛仔帽的男人，并且讓自己懸空在他家的草坪上。雖然只有幾秒鐘，但我放開了。

我抓住梅林，大笑起來，跳下了走繩：

“你是個(gè)魔術(shù)師?！?/p>

“我還是個(gè)詩人呢，想聽嗎？

“我擔(dān)心摔下來?！蔽艺f道。

“可我已經(jīng)告訴你該怎么做了。”

彎曲膝蓋，它不是繃索，它是一根軟繩。

我一直沒有忘記：擁抱在帶子上晃動的奇怪感覺?；蝿拥牟皇抢K子，而是你自己。