Saturday, February 16, 2008

A Poem to my Love


To my dearest love,

I long for the second that both the clock hands reach straight up and touch, sending me to you. The heart in my stomach is empty and only you have the substance I crave to fill that emptiness. I leave my comfort zone, traveling the neighborhood by foot, in search of you. I hear your sweet siren song of "La Cucaracha" approaching, and I know we will soon be together. The sun shines brightly and I see your reflection, you are a bright shiny beacon of deliciousness. You stand there before me, I have found you again. We are together. And you aren't going anywhere...because there are blocks under your wheels. There's a line in front of you, but I'll wait....I'll wait for you. My heart leaps for joy just being in your presence, I've been counting the hours since we were last together......yesterday. You look good, fully stocked with Nacho Cheese Doritos, Nestle Crunch Bars, Pop Rocks, and that weird soda that I've never tried. Oh, what's that? Your glistening body has a new advertisement for pre-paid phone cards, classy. You replaced the used car ad for the 1991 Mazda Fastback, that was missing it's passenger seat. Someone must have bought it. What? Huh?! No , I don't have any spare change...no, ...no thank you...sorry!. You aren't parked in the greatest of neighborhoods, but I would walk all the way underneath the highway overpass for you my love. Nothing can stop my heart from beating for you,...except maybe a knife-wielding hobo.
Wow, it's a hot one today. I'll just move under the shade of your swing open overhang,...ahhhh, thank you, that's really nice. Oh, it's my turn to order, I'll have a pollo quesdailla today. Thank you. The Mexican woman inside you repeated back my order, but I couldn't really understand her so I just nodded. I'm not worried about the order being wrong. If anyone can get it right, you mexi-can. Look at your menu, it's beautiful. Tacos, Burritos, Quesadillas, Hot Dogs. You satisfy my every desire. What? What did she say? I think the mexican woman called out my order but I'm not sure. I'll just stare at her until she points my order at me. Oh, okay, it's mine. And this....dollar bill, is for you. I'm just going to slide it into your old peanut butter/tip jar that is taped to the window. That's for you love. Consider it gas money to come back tomorrow. Well I better get going...I have to leave in order to see you tomorrow. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Promise me you'll come back. I already miss you. I know this delicious pollo quesadilla will fill my stomach with joy and fill my heart with happiness. I also know it will leave my body as easily as it goes in. Your love is truly a gift. As I look back down the block, I can still see you, shiny, and metal. We won't be together for another 24 hours but you'll always be in my heart, literally, your food isn't the healthiest. But that matters not to me, my heart drives for you. I turn back for one last look, knowing you'll be back tomorrow.....unless you're deported.

I love you Taco Truck.

4 comments:

Doug Cox said...

So when I eat at the Taco Truck, does that mean I'm getting your sloppy seconds? And that horrible explosion of poo in my toilet... is that an STD? And if it is... is there a cure?

Josh Cooley said...

How DARE you sir! Next time I see you expect a square pop in the kisser for speaking out of line, you fancy so-and-so!

TSM said...

You should come with me to International Blvd for lunch someday. You will DIE.

It's like taco truck heaven.

-T

Anonymous said...

I am so going to use this as a monologue next time I need one.