Poem: Craving

I made this in a creative writing class my second year of college, back when I was still having withdrawals from Brazil. Not a huge fan of it because it don't rhyme none, but from what I can tell from other free-verse poetry, I think it's not half-bad the way it talks about simplicity and nostalgia vs. fanciness.

Craving

I have tasted succulent steaks,

Seasoned with pepper and sauce and cooked just a little bit pink.

Sandwiches and hamburgers,

Some so tall you have to pin them together with a toothpick.

Salads so fresh,

Every half-moon of lettuce, cucumber, and celery would crunch.

Breadsticks dripping with butter—

Literally dripping. And all rough and salty with garlic on top.

I have sampled soups and broths,

Whose robust aroma warms the kitchen for half the evening.

Restaurants have their specialties, and the melting pot of America

Also happens to be bubbling with a dozen different cultural sauces.

But oh, how I long for a simple Brazilian coxinha,

Golden and fried, made from a common chicken

Cooked in a plywood stall, by a tattered gentleman

Feeding strangers so his family can eat.