unmoored from routine we left it
too late to eat culchies on a new
england road trip, we discover a
station just for springsteen this is
blue jeans, this is apple pie this is a large iced coffee
in walmart swimsuits we are ten
again, excitable, in a hyatt off
the highway, my sisters blow
drying their chlorine hair five
adults now in a family room
the nearest town is deserted
underestimated america in its
modernity, and starving we’ve
turned on each other and on
google maps until finally
we see the neon bell, the fuschia
a mirage, a midnight miracle my
mother holds a soft shell taco like
it’s precious, like it’s her firstborn
son
Aoife Riach is a queer feminist witch from Ireland with an MA in Gender & Women’s Studies. She has worked as a writer for BUST magazine in NYC and her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Impossible Archetype, Abridged, Sad Girl Review, The Pickled Body, Ghost City Press and other magazines.
Taco Bell Quarterly 