A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users
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.