Croqueta Preparada

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

 

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