Chimichangas

Chimichangas at 12 am

The midnight oil burns brightly

Lighting weary features and dark rings

Under my eyes

But the microwave performs a miracle

5…4…3…2…1

The two minutes have passed

Ding!

And dinner’s ready

-

I ate not because I wanted to

But because I had to

And hot, steamy chimichangas

Fresh from the overworked microwave

Was better than nothing

-

(Better than Hot Pockets anyway…)

-

Soft, warm, white tortillas wrapped around

A mound of spicy, melted, oozing cheese

Dark strips of savory beef

The occasional onion or green pepper piece

The piquant aroma cajoling

Against unresisting nostrils

The tangy drop of cheese

Pooled in the bottom of the white, cracked, porcelain, microwave-safe bowl

Sometimes I’d burn my tongue

Every time I raise the sensational smelling pillow against my lips

Open my mouth

And take a bite.

(A/N: Staying up late each night and working makes me hungry from some radioactive grub. Ah, the microwave, every lazy person's bestfriend.