Cerveza Today, Menudo Tomorrow
Consumed today till golden streams are seen.
Ordered in large buckets tomorrow.
To quell the effects of drink.
That can’t be taken back.
Moments foggily relived back,
only remember the bottles of cerveza.
That stood sweaty and erect, yelling “Drink
Me! Right now, Cabron! Today!”
And mental note was made by tomorrow,
“I hope the place don’t run outta menudo.”
If you don’t know whats in menudo,
I could tell you, but you’d take it back.
A whisper, drowned out in cerveza
Foam, that clings upon your lip today.
That gulps the pale, cold drink.
In truth, Nat’l Pastime shouldn’t be baseball, but drink.
And Americans assume Menudo
Is that 80’s band, regrouped, today.
Planning a big comeback.
Original fans can now drink cerveza
And buy CD tomorrow.
As party rages on, Tomorrow
Is far away, in last drops of final drink.
Had to hide. Cause menudo
Was coming back
By popular demand today.
All is quiet. Tomorrow
Will be normal, taking back
Revelry caused by prior drink.
Steam curls from bowl of Menudo,
That sits in memory of cerveza.
Winter is an aging Old Hollywood film star in a tie-dyed muu muu and halo white orthopedic shoes that were bought on clearance at the last K-mart in the country. She uses two Oscars to hold up the rims of her compression stockings. Going about the world as if it were her adoring public. Not realizing the world has since
Spring is a nine year old girl in a Sunday dress filled with
sunflowers in the folded layers of netting. She loves Easter baskets, those weeds that look like cotton that bloom in May, and playing Hide & Seek. Which she only does
half in Chicago. She just hides.
Summer is the new scantily-clad reality star, visually devoured by the public on a daily basis.
She’s full of herself and hot air; to the point where
she makes one feel like they’ve left the house with
the oven still on. For her, bikinis are street wear
because life is a beach.
Autumn is smart and sassy, cool and collected.
Confident and charismatic. She’s hoodie and
velour lounge pants with a coffee in her hand
any given morning. But none of that pumkin
The four of them roam over the streets in random order. Always surprised when they cross each other’s path.
Shontay Luna is a Chicagoan whose credits include The Daily Drunk,The Literary Nest and Lucky Jefferson, among others. She’s the authorof two chapbooks, “Reflections of a Project Girl” and “Recollections &Dreams”. At the moment, currently writing for a book of essays.