When the Conquistadors
first came to Florida
in the 1500's
they visited Disney World,
then owned and operated
by indigenous people,
and were disappointed.
It seemed to them
little better than a
moldy amusement park
and they wanted
their money back.
They summoned
the Indians, saying,
'We were expecting gold,
and eternal youth'
'What, ' said the Indians,
'at an amusement park? '
Angry, the Conquistadors
went to Cypress Gardens,
to see the girl water skiers,
whom they found
impossibly dated
in mid 20th Century style.
Now volcanically angry,
the Conquistadors descended upon
the indigenous people of Florida,
all but wiping them out,
and handed management
of the state
over to rednecks, mobsters,
ring wing Cubans,
and vast entertainment conglomerates.
The sugar growers
were invited
to destroy The Everglades.
A manatee
was elected governor
and the flamingo, an imported species,
was named the state bird.
The Old Florida,
the tropical paradise
of crumbling theme parks,
alligator ranches, parrot farms,
and assorted cheesy tourist traps,
all run by First Nation People,
was lost forever
and replaced by The New Florida
we know today,
an anteroom to the after life,
a vast assisted care community
including memory care units,
nursing pavilions, hospices,
graveyards and columbaria
scattered among golf courses,
barrier islands, orange groves,
rocket launchers, and Wal-Marts,
is a universal disappointment
to locals and tourists alike,
making them simmer
with a volcanic rage
which is always
on the verge
of erupting
but
never does.
Not,
at least,
so far.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
consistently great