Most nights,
there’s a rave-roving purveyor
of meaty Mexican masterpieces.
— cilantro & lime on the side —
It’s drawn to the sweet unhinged
by the force and call of hunger —
that gravity of need.
It’s fueled by the need to feed
the weed-reeking masses,
and by the sweaty, wadded cash
they dig out of pockets.
You can never find
the Midnight Taco Truck,
but it may find you…
if your luck and hunger
are vibrating in harmony.
Such a nice ending to it.
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