We eat tacos and meats on the street
by the metro station market,
breaded meat melonesa,
tender flaky pork in green mole.
Suck on the bone to not miss a drop.
Beaded dull colored beef,
tropical soda pink and pulpy.
The waitress, harried, smiling,
brings them out one by one,
slowly, for those who must learn to wait.
A begging couple enters,
his legs thinner than the bones on my plate,
head cocked to the side with eyes
pleading a look prepared for our guilt.
His shoes too large wagging like truck mud flaps.
we turn attention to tortillas
to soak up last drops of sauce.
A guitar player strolls in full of songs,
Sappy in any language. We give him some pesos,
Finish our plates to the rumble of stomachs filled.