Packing up to move, I came across a notebook I kept to entertain myself while I worked in a high school in 2004. Like many of my old notebooks, it’s mostly filled with bad song lyrics, odd and usually quite pretentious free-writing exercises, and lists of things I needed to do. (Obligations listed in this one include: “Wash dog,” “return football,” “eels CD,” and “play guitar.”)

It also contains a poem I wrote about the Crunchwrap Supreme right after it first came out. This was written years ago, while I was still developing my Taco-Bell-writing voice. So it’s a bit raw. But because computer trouble at work prevented me from posting anything more substantive here this afternoon, I figured I’d transcribe it:

A Crunch Supreme

Prepared fresh and expedient,
the same five ingredients
in a new combination;
synergistic innovation.

Soft yet crunchy,
edible contradiction
Mexican Pizza, Soft Taco,
in a whole new position.
Beef, lettuce, nacho cheese,
no tomatoes for me please.

At a dollar ninety-nine,
it feels like a crime.
I’d like it “supreme”
(Mexican for “with sour cream”).

How? Who? When?
I’m filled up with questions.
What is responsible for
this delectable invention?
Who sat around
for hours and hours
creating this medium
for raw taco power?

Wrap and Crunch,
together at last.
I just ate two,
bring another one fast.