Thirteen ways of looking at a bean burrito

After Wallace Stevens


Among twenty different menu items
the only moving thing was the price
of the bean burrito


I was of three minds, like a bean burrito
in which there are three kinds of sauce.


The bean burrito whirled in the microwave
It was a small part of the pantomime


A man and a woman are one
A man and a woman and a bean burrito
are one


I don’t know which to prefer
the beauty of inflections
or the beauty of innuendo
the bean burrito in my mouth
or just after


Icicles filled the freezer with
barbaric glass. The shadow of
the bean burrito crossed it to and fro
the allure
traced in the shadow an insatiable hunger


O thin men of Akron,
why do you imagine avocado toasts?
Do you not see how the bean burrito
fills the stomachs of the women about you?


I know noble palates
and lucid, inescapable tastes;
but I know, too,
that the bean burrito is involved
in what I eat


When the bean burrito
rolled out of sight
it marked the edge of
one of many microwave-safe plates


At the sight of a bean burrito
flying in green light
even the king of burgers
would cry out sharply


He rode over Columbus
in a Ford Taurus
Once a fear pierced him
in that he mistook a beefy nacho loaded griller
for a bean burrito


The microwave is on
The bean burrito must be cooking


It was midnight all evening
I was high
and I was going to get high
The bean burrito sat
on the paper plate.

DT McCrea is a trans anarchist poet.  They live in hell and also Akron, Ohio.  In their free time DT enjoys pondering the nature of the universe and plotting the downfall of capitalism. Tweet at them @dtmccrea.

%d bloggers like this: