ODE TO A BURRITO ❋ Jeanette Quick

inner moistness, the intermarriage of warm cheese and pico
de gallo: tomatoes, cilantro, onions, lime, a hint of salt.
the meaty rigidity of the structure of a bean – its shape pushing
back on your tongue, firm outside, tender inside, black or pinto
whole. But refried is brown sweetness, another suitor
for the queso melted into its depths – yes, some days just bean and
cheese are enough. Other days you wake in your bed with tender
red meat in your eyes, carne asada delicately spiced, sliced,
between rice and tomatoes diced. you tear at beef with your
teeth, gnashing that perfect bite, that one mouthful of meat, bean,
cheese, sour cream, guacamole, pico de gallo, rice, hugged at
all corners with a light yet sturdy flour wrapper, the tortilla to
end all tortillas for anyone else, the tortilla of life and death, the
beginning and the ending of the meal that completes your story,
its interiors full of surprises and mysteries that get all mixed up,
twisted into something different than its individual parts, better,
more life-affirming, the way to live is to keep on living, with all
that we have within us, our light yet sturdy flour wrappers.