In between the hot dog cinema and the pizza hut 

sits the gluttony in waiting. Foundations surrounded by

Hoarding boards of exotic promise. The builders are at work,

slabbing down chalupa bricks, slithering them together 

with chunky salsa. A mortar of sour cream

At night, a dust frosting lays it self, spicy,

enticing over the newly laid on ramp. The tannoy

crackles like peppers in hot skillets, awaiting the first customer.

The roof slates are nachos and monterey jack.

We watch the slow cheese drip from scaffolds like rain over a northern sky. 

We wonder if the tacos will stay crispy this far from home

I can see the stadium terraces from the building site – 

offering a faux Mexican wave

One day soon, the place will be packed

Stuffed burrito people in their winter coats

Queueing, wrapped, dough white skin,

On their way to the flicks, or the match,

Tingle tongued and greasy for easy snacks

How I long for that bell to ring the death knell to my diet

But for now, I can only watch and wait

As Cinnamon stained girders rise out of the ground

Promising Taco Tuesday and

Quesadillas for a quid