Video by Deb Morbeto

i am not a taco. i don’t smile. i do not belong to you. i’m more of a bean burrito, flopped on a plate like a wet dachshund, fleshy and warm. tacos smile. little shell-smiles, nestled in aisles like babies in incubators, crispy corn-mouths gaping to be stuffed. tacos are easy. you snap, they shatter. burritos don’t make it easy. burritos make you work, make you puncture and scoop. they have mass, like floured tumors. burritos are limp, unlovely mysteries. not like a taco, spread and saucy as a cheerleader. oh yes, the taco can be owned. but the burrito – the burrito owns you.

This one came from a message board post instructing another poster to “smile, my little taco!” It’s not much as a poem, but I liked some of the images I came up with at least, and I think Deb got the humor right.