Give me two warm buns, slightly toast
A silent plea to my flaws and insecurities
Two is often better than one
Except in case of an emergency

Condiments come next, just like the spice of life
Wide width of various, shapes, and sizes
Hiding the flavor fluent in broken tones

Lettuce, or call it lechuga
An Authentic latina brings her own flare
But I am too far removed to claim ancestry
Cuba, betrayed by its own distrust for anything other than my red-bone skin tone

Tomato, tomato
Dark skin color spoils the rumba
But a flower by any other name is just as sweet

Thick cut bacon, from the belly of the beast
A sinner’s sandwich
Placed at my feet

Shattered pearls and a Soliloquy BLT
Dinner has never been quite as good