Rolling drippy, crunchy
Valencia peanut-butter
up in a 12” flour burrito,
I devour it, make myself
another & devour it too,
but drink nothing with it;
have I finally almost
gone NorCalifornian?
I may as well have: I
like what I’m doing.
I’m thinking of
making another,
but maybe I won’t,
but maybe I will.
(01 APR 11, Santa Clara CA)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem