Читать книгу Migra! - Kelly Lytle Hernandez - Страница 6

For my mother because you taught me to write

For my father because you inspire me to take on the world

For my brother because you teach me that change is possible

For my husband because you are beautiful

For my children because I love you

[Spoken] It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No man, it’s a wetback. [Sung] He came from the sky, but he is not a plane. He came in his spaceship from Krypton, And by the looks of him, he’s not American. He’s someone like me—undocumented. So the migrant should not work Because even though it hurts, Superman is an illegal. He’s a journalist, and I am too; He didn’t serve in the army (what a bum!) He is white, has blue eyes and is well-formed; I’m dark-skinned, chubby, and short. But in my homeland I already marched With the coyote I paid when I crossed.

He didn’t serve in the military He doesn’t pay taxes and he wants to pass judgment He doesn’t have diamonds or a license to fly. I’ll bet he doesn’t even have a social security card.

We need to kick Superman out of here And if it’s possible, send him back to Krypton. Where is the emigration authority? What’s the news, Mr. Racism, in the nation? For all I know they don’t fine him for flying But on the contrary, they declare he’s Superman.

JORGE LERMA, “SUPERMAN IS AN ILLEGAL ALIEN”