Today’s word: Chalupa. Since I’m running a little short on time, I thought I’d write a bad ode to the Chalupa. Honestly, the poem works better if you read it out loud with a dramatic pause or two, adding weight to the words, and then record it and post it on Youtube so you can make my year. Thanks.
Oh, crispy flour tortilla cradling a meaty center snuggled with cheese and sour cream... You turn me on But only when I’m really, really drunk And everything is beautiful And everything sounds like a good idea Especially you, (And sending out text messages at 3am To old boyfriends Who are now married and have orders for me not to contact them.)
Chalupa! I call your name from the bottom of my spirit. You are a warrior call! A hunter’s call! I’m on a hunt. For you.
You make my loins Quiver… … …. Okay. Actually, that’s the alcohol. But you, Chalupa, you feed my soul. You are there for me when I need you. You will enter my mouth and I will lick you And then swallow you whole And then totally regret it later when I have the spins and I’m on the floor of my bathroom sobbing about all the mistakes I’ve made in life and wishing I wasn’t as old and chubby and dream-broken as I am.
But right now, Chalupa, You are my everything. I love you. Let me unwrap you with my teeth. I can totally do that because someone else is driving. I don’t know who but… Ah. It’s my mom. Whatever. Chalupa, become one with me. Dance the spirit dance. Make me buoyant. Light. Fill the emptiness in my stomach But also in my soul. Be my thirty-second boyfriend. Ole.