Day 24: El Casa Grande

"Rice and Beans on Independence Day"

I lit a sparkler last night, Nadina,

and in an undertone murmured thanks

to George Washington that you were ever my waitress,

Mi camarera.

You delivered to my table a glass of water,
knowingly wearing a slice of
lemon on its brim.
In my mind I worked up the courage to have this dance with you.
Permiso?

You answered in honest silence about Lempira.

I knew not yet your grande was grander than a building's size.

You suggested the Baleada #3.

I longed to boycott
Arizona
for your people.

You spoke of your brother back in Mexico, on the lake
with the tilapia traps,

and I felt the weight of sweet white fish on my molars,
broke an oath I once made to Bourdain:

fish on a Monday.

You brought me the filete relleno, covered in shrimp.
Small, sweet camarones.

I fantasized plagiarizing Lorca for you.

You had to know the avocado wasn't ripe
I would have waited through the lonely restaurant madrugadas, patiently

at this booth

in your section

until it was.

You answered my inquiry
about the creamy seafood sauce

that washed out to meet the edge of my refried beans.

I dreamed of building a wooden ship.
My careful brushstrokes painted the letters of your name on the side in resiny tar:
L A N A D I N A.

You handed me the bill.

I tipped roughly 20%.

After tax.

The Score: Attentive and personal service. Lots of interesting seafood dishes on the Honduran half of the menu; probably best to try them on a Friday or Saturday.