By JP Allen
inside the TASTEFULLY REVITALIZED DOWNTOWN
of where i moved for vibes and money in the FOOD
HALL on the ground floor of the five-over-one con-
do building that pushed out the low brick building that
a LOCALLY RESPECTED ARTS NONPROFIT used
to rent which pushed out an old auto shop which pushed
out redlined wealth-leeched state-leeched houses i can buy
a crunchwrap starting at $12 “taco bell-
evated” is a fun thing nearby PROMINENT
SELECTIVE RESEARCH UNIVERSITY students
and profs could tweet and feel ok enough about
this being a LOCAL IMMIGRANT-OWNED BUSINESSES – i
reserve no blame or clowning for the chef and staff
who just want to make food and survive – my partner
who works at a different place in the food hall said
the concept started out tamales but those didn’t
sell so crunchwraps what’s the point here what’s the lesson
what’s the action what if i am at a loss
i’m standing in the food hall with my white latino
redneck heart dripping between my fingers chomp
my unique proustian commodifiable
connections to tamales AND to taco bell
nobody’s memories are safe from TURNING COOL
am i persona or impostor i perform
more country – pocho – poet than i am or am
i lost inside this one of many hyperobjects
folded in upon itself this GROWTH-FRIENDLY
PRODUCTIVE MELTING POT this poem this crunchwrap and
it’s pretty good i take another bite chomp chomp
JP Allen’s poems appear in Narrative Magazine, The Hopkins Review, The Normal School, and elsewhere; his translations from Spanish have been published in journals including Hayden’s Ferry, Willow Springs (Pushcart-nominated), and Modern Poetry in Translation.
Taco Bell Quarterly 