Taco John's2517 N. 4th Street, Cd'A
Saint Immodium
So sweaty, cramping up.
I pray for inner peace and I'm running low
on peppermint tea bags.
Jalapeno green hot flashes.
Sometimes I make such bad choices,
groggy from traffic,
maybe all whatevery,
hungry for something fast and foxy,
easy-bake, it's chilly, it's pizza.
It's tacos.
Rewind an old Prince cassette.
Brains repress.
A sad sombrero pops in through blurred vision.
Saint Immodium
She weeps super hot tears.
The tortilla is choice but what's inside?
Ghost of miserable onion,
Smear of lettuce wilt,
Spray of shit beans,
an orange frothy cream of meat,
Cheese pretending to be cheese pretending to be cheese.
Listeria monocytogenes and
Clostridium botulinum.
Potato Oles with nothing to celebrate
but winter's tragic quinceanera,
no best girlfriends come,
just an old toothless abuela.
I should have known the suffering.
A life in rectangles,
gritting teeth and cursing the place
an entire weekend gone
never again never again.
Oh, Saint Immodium
now I'm poisoned to a threshold of inches,
I can only hear the TV blaring in the other room,
Getting used to the change of scenery,
the tiles need re-caulking
and I'm tired of these magazines.