Then she began to sob uncontrollably
just as she had that night in 1962 when I told her
the Indians were not to blame for
the destruction of America. It’s terrible
to have your life come crashing
around you like say you might
be a cliff on a famous coast and
just have to stand there
with tourists all over on your head
like lice. There is an upside—
you get a chair, a table, and a spoon
and three times a day you can fill
the spoon with something that looks
like something you might like to put
in your mouth. The downside is there are
seventy years of hardship, like breaking
pieces of metal into smaller pieces
or rolling paper onto these great big rolls,
immense things! Things that crush you
if you get between them. Things smush.
Things pinch. Later they turn you
toward the window and you feel
the cool breeze and smell the salt.
Your guess is that now it is morning
and you are passing the mines.