Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

  • Mood:

taco simplex

The Taco Bell taco, a thing of slightliness--slightly stale shell, slightly suspect meat, slightly off lettuce--which combined with a sprinkle of cheese and a nominal offering of tomatoes--as if the kitchen man had merely thought of tomatoes while waving his hand over the taco shell--create a perfect poem in the mouth, if a poem was ever designed to be scarfed down in one's jaws like prey to a ravenous wolverine.
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