Let’s make America Mexico again (a poem)
1. Remember the Afro-Euro-Canad-
land bridge? Because it led
to Tenochtitlán, not Washed-up, DC. And
that was before borders. Before passports and
politicos who told you where to be.
2. Do you know that thousands of years after,
Spaniards showed up to… here, not there.
Replaced Aztec modernities with their own,
then conquered their way *south*
to Argentina rather than north to Alaska?
3. This means the Spaniards left the
swiftest route across the Atlantic to the
desperate-for-anything Pilgrims. An act that
defies geographic logic, indicates variation
in the desirability of New World lands.
4. Metaphoric insert: the Spaniards skipped Gringolandia
the way the soccer-playing Catholics
skipped Chiapas, left its too-dense jungles for the
basketball-playing Protestants to proselytize later;
I swear to Quetzalcoatl you can look this up.
5. I didn’t mention Santa An(n)a. I bet you thought I was gonna
mention Santa An(n)a. Molotov mentioned Santa An(n)a.
Maybe you expected sand, sun, sex, and surf as my
ruse. Or what if I promised seafood on the beach and
siestas in hamacas at midday? Tequila? Tacos?
6. Did you know even the French invaded Mexico?
Twice, in fact, though they never lasted long.
7. So let’s make America Mexico again: where
a kilo of avocados is twenty pesos today;
three kilos of mandarinas, the same―it’s a buck,
& they’re native. Let’s write (even poorly).
Full time. For a living.
From both sides of the Rio Grande.
AN: I am borrowing my title from the hashtag of the same. And my Molotov reference is to the lyrics of the song Frijolero.
