Anahuac

I am 19 standing
In the Vale of Anahuac
On the slopes of the volcano
Ixtlilxóchitl, looking down on
Tenochtitlan somewhere in
Mexico City spread out across
The Vale twenty million strong.
El cielo the sky is bright blue and
El Azteca stadium is Nuevo new
Half hidden in the fog and rain.
My friend Paul is standing by
Our bus as we make our way
Toward some place to visit,
Passengers through time
On our way to memories
Of Mexico in 1965 and
Life is sweet to be so
Young and foolish
Unaware of our
Danger but we
Are safe as
Fate rolls
Our dice
With a
Smile.
We
Traveled
Across the Vale
Of Anahuac in the cool
Rainy August like the
Over grown school
Boys we were and
Later returned to
Our homes in
San Antonio
Never to
Forget
The
Beauty
We had seen
Among the Mexican
People whose kind
Tolerance of us
Stays with me
For all my
Life.
I do not
See why now
My fellow citizens
Treat our guests from
Mexico and south seeking
Refuge so poorly that
I blush with shame
At our callus use
Of such sweet
People who
Acted so
Kindly
Long
Ago.