I drove to St Augustine for the Christmas lights.
I saw a strange lady in my bathroom at the Casa Monica. She was laughing at me.
I looked out my window to see the Christmas lights. I saw cars.
Cars spewing carbon on ancient streets where conquistadors once strode.
I asked Henry Flagler what the hell happened.
He said “You got the wrong Henry, pal. Ask Ford.”
And St. Augustine’s lion scowled.
What damnable infestation is this!
But things forever change.
Eventually the rising sea will claim what Menendez built.
And even the cars, spewing their carbon still, will have to give way.
The future is in the water.
And the past will fade into memory.
And the lady will laugh. And the lion will scowl.