Poem: "Food Is Everything We Are"

[ysabetwordsmith]

This is the freebie for the April 2026 crowdfunding Creative Jam. It was inspired by fan art from gs_silva, plus comments on "Walnut Park" from chanter1944, wispfox, and readera. It also fills the "match" square in my 4-1-26 card for the Flower Fest Bingo. This poem belongs to the Broken Angels thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.


"Food Is Everything We Are"

[Saturday, June 11, 2016]

Walnut Park was shaping up,
which made Boss Blaster smile.

The grass was mowed and
the driveway had fresh gravel.

The shade gardens had been
cleaned up and planted with
some new native species.

Picnic tables dotted the lawn,
along with the busk stage.

Dozer had made sure that
the soil was lead-free and
healthy enough to support
both plants and foot traffic.

The water fountains hadn't
arrived yet but were due soon.

The people had definitely caught on
that Walnut Park had good food now.

Today there were two food trucks:
a new taco truck with periwinkle paint
and The Food Is Lava in yellow.

The taco truck had solid sides,
but The Food Is Lava had been
built by bolting things into the back
of a standard-issue pickup truck.

Bobbie squealed when she saw
the Ethiopian truck. "It's here!"
she said, bouncing on her toes.
"I want to try the zigni wat."

"A taco truck is your idea of
something milder?" Kato said,
rolling his eyes at Boss Blaster.

"You were the one who requested
taco trucks," Boss Blaster said.
"Besides, they have plain rice
and cheese quesadillas."

"Suits me," Kato said, and
headed over to get in line.

That one had a mixed crowd,
but The Food Is Lava had a line
entirely of African-American and
Hispanic people, except for
one white woman trying to coax
someone else to try the food.

As Boss Blaster watched,
though, another white woman
came to the line, chattering
eagerly about misir wat.

He checked the menu.
That was the lentil stew.
It sounded good to him.

The line moved briskly
as the couple in the truck
dished things out of big pots.

As soon as Boss Blaster got
his plate, he stuck his face
into the steam and inhaled.

The spicy aroma rising up
from it made his eyes water.

He and Bobbie sat down
at one of the picnic tables.

Each stew came with a roll of
lacy, grayish-brown bread that
unfurled to the size of a placemat.

"Wait, where's the silverware?"
Boss Blaster said, frowning.

"Right here," Bobbie said.
She ripped off a piece of
the flat bread and folded
it expertly into a scoop
to shovel up the stew.

Boss Blaster followed suit,
somewhat more clumsily.

It felt like putting a lit match
in his mouth. That was
everything he hoped for.

"That is so good," he said.
"Thanks for recommending
this food truck for the park."

Kato came over with a big plate
that held a cheese quesadilla,
three small tacos, refried beans,
rice, and a colorful pile of salsa.

"Mine's good," he said. "How
is ... whatever you ordered?"

Bobbie mumbled something
with her mouth full, but it
was impossible to make out.

"Mine is delicious. Want
a sample?" said Boss Blaster.

"Nah, I'm good," said Kato.
"But thanks for offering. Not
everyone likes to share food."

"Food is everything we are,"
Boss Blaster replied. "It is
an extension of ethnic feeling,
your personal history, your province,
your region, your tribe, and your grandma.
It’s inseparable from those from the get-go.
That's a part of why I wanted to create
a food truck park here -- so that folks can
bring their whole selves to the neighborhood."

Kato stuffed half a taco in his mouth and
nodded, giving the food a thumbs-up.

"It really is great," said Bobbie. "I
like seeing everyone come together
to enjoy different kinds of food.
Not everything has to match."

Boss Blaster watched
the first white woman
smacking a bottle
of berbere spice
to make it come
out even faster.

Two Hispanic guys
were trying to roll up
their stew in flat bread
like making burritos.

Yeah, this food truck park
was a terrific investment.

* * *

Notes:

This poem is long, so its notes appear elsewhere.

Comments

[wispfox]

Oh, excellent, thank you!