In my Grandmothers kitchen the tortillas made the air thick.
Sweet, wet corn smell drifting....
Making soft the troubles of the day.
We stood, eyes wide as she gently swirled squares of butter, turning fat to liquid heaven.
Outside!
Don't drip heaven on the linoleum!
We took our score outside, smiling for tortilla days.
Eat it fast!
Or liquid heaven is lost to dirt, dripping from maized tubes to dust.
Best to savor quick the salty grease and wet corn smell.
That smell followed me home,
and gave me melted butter dreams.
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