yo tengo hambre, i’m starving by the time i reach the dinner party, i ring the door bell and a smiling face lets me in, it’s so crowded already, boots off i walk back to la cocina to say hello to the friend who invited me, 3 dudes already cooking, the smells, the energy, it’s beautiful, i find a cold negro modelo especial in a cooler, the first course, sopa de beans and bacon already warming my hands
the mexicanos y mexicanas, the chilenos, the guatemaltecos… i didn’t know any of them, but they fed me this night ¿comprende? they fed me. chicharron en salsa verde with even more fresh bright green salsa verde on top, chorizo con papas, slices of queso fresco y limon, sopapillas con bistec, pasteles de mango, all so bueno, as i drink vino chileno and squirt with patron silver
¿do you understand, amigos? they fed me this night, with laughter, with clapping hands slapping sopapillas, the stories of what they miss, another cold winter about to begin, la mezcla de culturas is aqui, ahora, as i stand in the entry to the cocina, soaking it all in with a smile as i would have if this night was in Santiago or Guatemala or Veracruz, this night in Minneapolis
heat flow 