Delicious, tender, pink,
fresh piece of garbage.
Born of lymph nodes,
fats, ovaries, testicles
and other mammals’ inner.
You go around and around,
waiting for ketchup and mustard.
Food of democracies,
and 7 Elevens.
Your oily flesh,
melted in flour, water and saliva,
activates the sybaritic spirits
of all generations.
“Completo,” “Pancho,” “Salchicha,”
they call you in the Spanish language,
while they feast on you with cabbage,
onion and avocado.
You are the symbol of fast food,
practicality and convenience.
Feeding the dreams of an industrialized
High Tech. Mythology.
Perhaps the Sufis envisioned you and wrote.
“The garbage of one is the treasure of another.”
And after all these years,
with pleasure I eat you,
with nothing else
than mayonnaise and Coca-Cola.
From Bluff Fandango 1999 – Gathering of Poets and Writers.