There you are
Fried and golden
Like my skin after all day
on 7th and Ocean
Fancy, finding you here
at Chico’s, in your glass case
I can’t wait to have you
I can’t wait to taste
“Dude it’s almost 6pm”
says O’brother of mine
What he doesn’t understand
Is that I can have breakfast anytime
“Dos croquetas preparadas”
I order from the lady behind the counter
“Con todo?” she asks
“Sin tomate” I countered
Near a hot, wind-swept strip mall
Close to 49th street
Mike and I devour our sandwiches
Our hangover now in full retreat
“To the hood”, our battle-cry
As we hopped in the ride
We skipped school today
And our parents aren’t blind
And a scolding we got
But our senses were dulled
“You’re grounded for a week,
And clean that sand off the rug”
In my bed where I crashed
I dreamt of nothing despite
Having known all along
It was a croqueta that saved me tonight
