burrito by starlight, red and green Cholula
in the beard. Stuffed to our socks, let us
dub this the first formal ritual to the pagan
gods of guac and fries, carne asada, jalapeño
hit the tongue, the joint, tie-dye breaks, the jetty
water moonset pacific. Recollecting yule tides,
re-collecting gifts that we’ve been given,
moments that always felt like ours to keep.
Digging toes deeper into this December
sand we fold our wrappers into pine trees,
at arm’s length lining for a moment a familiar
snowy path, twinkling. Blinking, we refocus
just to see them bouncing on the water, paper
dancing in the tiny miracle of living light.