I fucking love tacos. Dripping with fats, chewy and crunchy. Tang that knocks you out with an after-spice, a scary good feeling, like the free-fall tickling you get when driving over a steep hill.
Tacos are messy, but perfectly balanced – your whole face and hands won’t get soaked and sticky, just your lips and fingertips. But a good taco’s flavors will remain with you for hours, and its memories for your whole life.
A taco is this weird conglomeration of the best of the old and new worlds – a combination that should’ve never happened. But like all bad matches, a taco gives just the right amount of drama, just the perfect dollop of passion, just enough mystery in its meats, and never enough make-up sex. Sorry, just blacked out for a minute. That’s how good the taco I’m eating right now is. I will never get enough taco.
