There's not much real roof left,
Just a stretch in the back.
There's a rebuilt kiva,
Built to speculation,
And many open-walled,
Honeycombed, low-doored rooms.
It's carefully maintained
At this stage of ruin,
Neither rebuilt nor wrecked,
By the national parks,
Like Tintern Abbey,
And about the same age,
But not on a green lawn,
Not on tour coach schedules,
Just in New Mexico,
South of Durango
And the famous steam train
Chugging to Silverton.
Apparently, someone
Was reminded of those
Much later arrivistes
Of Teotihuacan
And labeled these "Aztec
Ruins." They're all ruined:
Petra, Mesa Verde,
New York, Las Vegas,
Jerusalem, London,
Beijing, Machu Picchu,
And the Hanging Gardens.
Happier than any
Of these grand, cruel kivas,
Outposts, cities, dream towns,
Was the charmed, laughable
Moment when my daughter
In the "Aztec" office
Learned of water fountains.
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