Taco Express Redux

The original post –

The introductory line was, “Bittersweet memories,” and that was intended as launch point, just a textual place holder, supposed to remind me to fill in the blanks.

(Kindle Version)

The bittersweet memory is a place of myth, gone, but not forgotten. Old Austin. Maria’s Taco Express, Maria didn’t have a new Jaguar, she had an old Chevy beater. The location was similar, but the place was smaller. Not “hipsters” but artists and trend setters. Not followers. No cool young couples with babies, either, but hung-over musicians, between last night’s gig and the day’s day job that pays cash.

I had two breakfast tacos with my redheaded Capricorn friend, under grey clouds.

“Remember when they cut the arms off?”

Remember when they stole the saddle from the Broken Spoke and no one would pawn it, knowing its origins?

What’s bittersweet is the memory of what was.

The breakfast tacos were as good as ever, two ‘migas’ tacos, but at five bucks for the pair, not the same low price that supported the burgeoning, nascent arts communities. That’s gone, now.


Wish Maria all the deserved success.

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