A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 20,000 daily subscribers and over 8,000 archived posts.
Last night, I bought a 12-pack of tacos
at Taco Bell, not because I was
especially hungry, but because I could.
My ship had come in, you see,
and for once, I was rolling in it.
I ate six of them in front of the television
while bingeing on episodes
of some Netflix series, not because
it was particularly engaging, but simply
because I could. My ship, if you recall,
had come in. I packed up the other six tacos
and brought them to work for lunch
where my fellow employees marveled,
or laughed, I couldn’t tell which, at
my ability to eat six soggy tortillas,
microwaved in their wrappers, and spread
like dollar bills on the table. I gave
one to a friend, and she was happy,
happy for the taco, happy for me,
happy for everyone who waited
for a boat, any boat, to come in.
Copyright 2021 Al Ortolani. First published in Rattle.

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Sickeningly, sadly American. The scene is entirely familiar.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, I interpret the poem as gentle satire about American consumerism.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Fun one to wake up to!
LikeLiked by 1 person