Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 48

Flavio Gonzales, seventy-two, made jackhammer

heads during the War; and tells me

about digging ditches in the Depression

for a dollar a day. We are busy plastering

the portal, and stop for a moment

in the April sun. His wife, sick for

years, died last January and left a

legacy—a $5,000 hospital bill.

I see the house he built at fifteen:

the ristras of red chile hanging

in the October sun. He sings “Paloma

Blanca” as he works, then stops,

turns: “I saw the TV photos of the

landing on the moon. But it’s all

lies. The government just went out

in the desert and found a crater.

Believe me, I know, I know the moon

is a diamond.”