Xochimolco

I am 19 in the Vale
Of Anahuac in
Mexico City in 1965,
The sky is blue and
El Aztecs stadium new,
I am on a bus with my
Friend Paul, Pablo
Whose family has made
Me their summer guest
Though I am a burden.
They are generous to
Me and warm as summer
Under a bright Mexican sun.
We are going to Xochimilco
To the floating gardens,
Chinampas amid canals
That used to be an island
In Lake Chaco when Cortez
Besieged Tenochtitlan the
Old Aztec island capital
Founded, protected and
Projected by canoes,
The heart of Aztec naval
Power in the Vale of Anahuac
Around lakes Texcoco, Chalco
To the south, Xaltocan-Zumpango
To the north now all dry,
Drained or used up or
Only tiny remnants of
Those inland waters where
Canoes projected Aztec power.
In Xochimilco Pablo and I ride
In a canoe made of a hollowed
Out tree trunk gliding along
The flower stall lined canals
Full of canoes and venders
Hawking trinkets, herbs and
Flowers for foolish tourists
Like me and Cortez.
Beware the iced drinks
And delicious smells of
Meat treats and ice creams.
Enchanting to glide along
Under the tree branches
Amid the bustle of the
Floating gardens built on
Chinampa made by driving
Tree trunks deep into the
Lake bottom to form a square
Then scooping up mud or earth
To fill the chinampa to a foot
Above the surface of the
Lake to appear as if they
Are floating gardens.
After a day exploring
We head back to home
North of old Atzcapotzalco
Or Tlacopan one of the allies
Of the Aztecs along with
Texcoco across the lake.
In the dusk of day all
Three places Aztec, Cortez
And 1965 blend together.
I am stamped forever by
Living in this Mexican
Stew of times and
Cultures all mixed,
Mestizo, into the
Present.
They are all three
With me all the time
As I add extra layers of
Experience around the
World though my heart
Is never far
from the floating
Gardens of
Xochimilco.