unsalted

flipping through photos of fried tortilla,
golden greased batter gripping the cast iron,
guando beans, like pebbles in the pan, six
shades of green, mixed with white, yellow,
brown beans too, fresh eggs
each morning, fried plantains, coffee
made from scratch. I feel foolish now,
remembering only tasteless texture
and the endless
chore of trying
to clean
my plate.