"You Think Everything That Aerosmith Does is Sexy..."

(Kayla, 1984)

I couldn't sleep. My bedroom window was wide open; the cool night air chilled the room, made me snuggle beneath my blankets. Puck snored at my feet. The whole neighborhood was asleep. But i just stared out the window, at the blue sliver of moon, and thought about him.

I'd never met anyone like Tom before. He was twenty-four, an elder to me. He was in a rock n roll band, he told me.

"You like tacos?" he asked.

"Yeah, i like tacos."

"Follow me."

Truth be told, i would have followed Tom anywhere.

In silence, we crossed the iron bridge to the "bad" side of town. I figured we were going to Aqui, but Tom led me into an even smaller shack with no sign on it at all. A bell on the door announced our entrance. An old lady with kinky gray hair emerged from the back and burst into a smile the moment she saw Tom. He hugged her. When i asked if she was his grandmother, he said, "She's everybody's grandmother."

Tom ordered tacos then sat down at the only table in the place.

"Let me guess," he said, narrowing his eyes at me, "you think tacos taste like the food you eat at Taco Bell."

"Well, not exactly... My stepdad's mother is Mexican and she made tacos for us all the time."

"Well today you eat a real taco."

At that moment, the gray-haired lady trudged over and set two plates in front of us. Steam rose up to kiss my face. it smelled like lamb and cilantro.

"Try one," Tom said.

I swallowed. Then I picked up the warm, soft corn tortilla, folded it over the hot meat, and took a bite. The fresh lime juice intensified the flavor of the roasted beef. The tortilla tasted like flat cornbread. It was fantastic.

Tom smiled. I smiled, too. Together, we ate six tacos, drank mango juice, and said almost nothing. Which, bizarrely, felt exactly right.