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OnlyEggy Sep 2011
I was making a burrito when
I dropped the tortilla into the fryer
    looks like I'm eating tostadas instead...

I was making a tostada when
The tortilla folded over inside the fryer
    looks like I'm eating tacos instead...

I was making a taco when
the edges of my overside tortilla folded up in the small fryer
    looks like I'm eating a taco salad instead...

I was making a taco salad when
the shell was dropped and shattered upon the counter
    looks like I'm eating nachos instead...

I was making some nachos when
I ran out of chips, so I grabbed a tortilla
   looks like I'm eating a burrito instead...
(AIP)

This poem was turned into a song by the VONK Ensemble
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvrEQM_RIxE
¡Qué alegre y fresca la mañanita!
Me agarra el aire por la nariz:
los perros ladran, un chico grita
y una muchacha gorda y bonita,
junto a una piedra, muele maíz.
Un mozo trae por un sendero
sus herramientas y su morral:
otro con caites y sin sombrero
busca una vaca con su ternero
para ordeñarla junto al corral.
Sonriendo a veces a la muchacha,
que de la piedra pasa al fogón,
un sabanero de buena facha,
casi en cuclillas afila el hacha
sobre una orilla del mollejón.
Por las colinas la luz se pierde
bajo el cielo claro y sin fin;
ahí el ganado las hojas muerde,
y hay en los tallos del pasto verde,
escarabajos de oro y carmín.
Sonando un cuerno corvo y sonoro,
pasa un vaquero, y a plena luz
vienen las vacas y un blanco toro,
con unas manchas color de oro
por la barriga y en el testuz.
Y la patrona, bate que bate,
me regocija con la ilusión
de una gran taza de chocolate,
que ha de pasarme por el gaznate
con la tostada y el requesón.
Elena Jun 2016
Cansada de besos vacíos
suspiro tu recuerdo cada noche
las rosas que brotaban de tu boca
el onix de tus ojos
la saliva enamorada
tu piel de miel tostada
Y me pregunto que será de ti
en las noches solitarias
¿Recordarás la sauvidad de mi piel?
la dulzura de mis caricias
lo conmovedor de mis miradas
los labios          que juraste amar por la eternidad


Y como pregunta se queda
flotando en el aire
aire de anhelo y extrañamiento
aire de recuerdo
imito tus caricias en mi piel
y con eso me conformo
porque ya no hay más




también las flores mueren
Joseph S Pete Dec 2019
The woman had scarfed down many chalupas

in the Taco Bell drive-thru at the ash end of 3 a.m.

She wolfed down the $3 dollar tacos with “chalupa” shells,



seasoned beef, a three-cheese blend, tomatoes,

lettuce and “reduced fat” sour cream,

with a robotic intensity and general incuriosity about its origins.



So she was shocked when she sat down with her kid

at the immigrant-run El Amigo restaurant

that served fresh salsa with freshly baked tortilla chips.



She had never actually tried an authentic chalupa,

a flat tostada-like deep-fried mold of masa dough

filled with meat, onion, chipotle and salsa.



The manager told her it was in fact

the kind of chalupa you’d find in Oaxaca or Puebla.

He told her he’d replace it, remove it from the table or take it off the bill.



She begged off but ultimately stormed out of the building

without paying the $12 bill, ultimately landing a felony charge

she appealed all the way to the state court of appeals.



The higher courts probably should not be adjudicating

Mexican cuisine, Tex-Mex and pale fast-food imitations,

but it was what is was; however it was served up, it was what is was.
My heart rate slowing now
tension flowing away,
wishing I was back in
Ourense,
warming in the heat of the day,

Having breakfast.

cafe con leche and
what?
mmm,
tostada con tomatey aceite
sounds as if it could be nice
and it will be when I get there.

but for now
I'm just a serf
on home turf
dreaming of a tomorrow.
Some days should have, 'do not go there', warnings on them.

— The End —