We asked for your taco haiku. You delivered. Five-seven-five, no more, no less (we counted, mostly).
Warm tortilla sighs salsa verde, bright and green my shirt is ruined
by Marisol, Austin
Trompo slowly turns pineapple falls like a star caught, then gone. Again.
by D. Okafor
Tuesday comes again the taco does not judge me for the fourth one. Fifth.
by Anonymous
Mushroom, epazote, no meat in this tortilla still counts. Yes. It does.
by Sam (vegetarian)
You call that salsa? I have seen hotter water. Move. I will cook now.
by Grandma Chela
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