Really good tortillas and posted-up cholos....

I've lived in Pueblo, Colorado for almost a year now. It's an interesting place. Lots of vagabonds and hoodlums, and the locals are all overweight and smoke. Drug use runs rampant, and it's one of those small towns you see on the evening news every so often for having an obscene murder rate. Denver Broncos paraphernalia abound, with flags hanging out of every other home on Sundays, and mailboxes and automobiles all decked out in a blue and orange ugly, pissed-off horse. All of the milquetoast east coast and midwest transplants to Colorado avoid this place almost as much as they avoid having personalities.

All of which is to say, I enjoy Pueblo immensely on most days. But one disappointing aspect has been the dearth of worthwhile Mexican restaurants. This problem isn't unique to Pueblo, by any means. 20 years ago, Colorado was rife with delicious Mexican-American food. You could get distracted and somehow end up in a shithole restaurant with a hot, delicious plate of chile rellenos and beans sitting in front of you, unsure of how it happened. But in the interim, something has happened and now you can't find a decent Mexican restaurant even with the help of word of mouth and a GPS. Colorado Springs is, unsurprisingly, more moribund than Pueblo on such matters. But the real disappointment is Denver. Denver is of course large enough to have, by sheer probability, a handful of decent Mexican restaurants, but it's pathetic how few and far in between they are.

You settle for "okay" or "fine" Mexican-American offerings, but The Soul Remembers. The Soul Remembers that there used to be something called, "Decent Mexican food that wasn't made at home" and it remembers that you used to eat it, and it remembers that it felt good. And so it's never quite satisfied when you pay actual money for "fine" or "okay." It knows something is missing, and it wanders the spiritual realm without you, scouring and hoping for any semblance of what it Remembers.

These enchiladas--
I keep chewing and chewing
but all the flavor
stays trapped inside somewhere
my teeth can't seem to get to


Anyhow, there is a "decent" taqueria in town. Adolfo's has a northside location and southside location. They're, in a philosophical sense, the same restaurant, but the southside location tends to be "pretty good" while the northside location is just "pretty decent." They both have really good tortillas, though. My issue with the southside location is that everything time I go there, there's some creepy-looking cholo posted up outside of the restaurant, I'm assuming trying to look hazardous. It's not the same guy every time. It's always a different dude. But it's the same vibe. Usually he's wearing a big, puffy coat, smoking and trying to evoke and air of toughness. He wants to be intimidating because he is better at violence than you are. He may be selling drugs, but mostly these guys just stare at you and make you want to go home and take a shower and check the sex offender registry. You walk past them when go in, and you walk past them on your way out, and they don't say anything or do anything. they just stand there and be fucking weird.

And there's more than one of them.

I have no point. Just that, it's hard to get to get some quick, easy Mexican food, and in order to do so you have to deal with these weirdos.

Anyway, the best Mexican place I've been to in Pueblo is Jorge's Sombrero. But I haven't been to all of them yet.

Cloudy Pueblo day--
Some geese fly overhead and
sing traveler's songs....

Pizza in his mouth
--a neighborhood squirrel
runs across my fence.


Lazy Sunday morn--
All I want to do is watch
porn and write poems. 

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