Rice takes far too long to cook.
Here I sit fabricating thoughts
To try to put down cohesively.
Awaiting the pleasant abdominal warmth.
Milk, butter, and sugar?
Butter and salt?
Soy sauce?
I sip my pineapple Jarritos
And think of the combinations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem