Cilantro
Cilantro, they called it.
It's smell is pungent, sweet yet bitter,
But tacos is nothing without it,
It's strong greenish smell.
Big fat Maria, her hospitable recipe
From the desert of Sonora,
Made Alejandro and me happy
In a very modest way.
We drank Corona, the Mexican beer,
One bottle each, nada más.
Outside the ground smelled of
The approaching desert rain.
Take this carne de cabeza
Take some green chile (its luminous colour)
Then sprinkle a lot of cilantro
Wrap them up with a tortilla de fariña.
There was no reason for me to be there.
But Maria's tacos were out of this world,
Near Nogales, Sonora,
Near the border
That divides
Cilantro and coriander.
