Enchilada
There sits the enchilada,
Baked in the oven,
Burrito or fajita
It is not.
Release to me your saucy chilli,
Your piquant jalapeño fire.
Enchilada. Burns.
Burrito
There sits the burrito.
Beans. Refried.
Cream. Soured.
Taco or enchilada,
It is not.
As I bite into you,
Your delicious innards spill out
Upon the path.
Burrito.
You ruin me so.
Fajita
There sits the Fajita.
Disassembled,
You are but vegetables,
Guacamole,
And cheese.
Refried beans are a potential,
Have you one pound and twenty to spare.
Would that I had a cast iron dishy,
To serve you from.
