The taco was a metaphor
For the zest of life
We had lost
In the pale stile of being.
Couldn’t fathom it bleeding from
The shell
Till something wicked tossed in us
And teeth crunched through light.
You screamed to love you more
And I did as best a man can
With salsa dribbling down his spine.
The restaurant wasn’t important but
The spice in your eye stuck till morning,
The sun spoon-feeding us
False innocence,
And I’ll always remember
The way you sidled to the shitter
To clean your conscience
And whisper in the mirror “I’m sorry.”

Scott Neuffer is a writer from Nevada. Follow him on Twitter @scottneuffer.