An Ode to Brasa

 

Grand Avenue, grand night out–

Spin me round, rotisserie.

Cornbread cravings quelled

Pigeon peas and an almost banh mi

On a garage-door faux patio.

Collards call for yucca fries;

You say masa, I say más Brasa.

Sangria, sweet sodas, or seltzer–

Simple, smooth, and classy.

Small, medium, or large?

For here or to go?

Let’s stay, let’s play,

And maybe never go.

unnamed (1)4822512907_b85bc16eca

 

Comments

  1. Char says:

    Edible poetry–love it!

Leave a Reply