Ode to Dunkin Donuts. v. 2

A dozen rounds covered
instead of gunpowder,
it is the white powder
of sweet delight.

I await her hand to 
turn the handle on the steam
and let the coffee
drip, drip, drip.

I smelled that coffee 
as I entered the plastic pink
and orange handled doors.
It was all America,
except now you could get
avocado from Mexico on your eggs and
toast.

That is fine with me.
I am from Cuba and we call
them rosquillas,
but our daughters call them
donuts.
They don't know.

That's all right.
I want them to fit in with
America, so they can get
good jobs. 

Sugar and milk,
eggs and flour,
it's all so good
but I would rather have
ham and eggs
with toast and guava.

A dozen rounds covered 
with powdered sugar
instead of bitter gunpowder.
They are a sweet delight.

I await his hand
to turn the handle of steel
and let the liquid
pour.

The smell of the coffee
fills the shiny room
plastic orange and pink
handled doors.
It is all American
joy and optimism.

You can even get 
avocado and sesame seeds
on toast.

That is fine with me.

In my mother's country
they are rosquillas,
but I call them donuts
and it's all right.

Sugar and milk,
eggs and flour,
chocolate and even
guayaba.