Dos de Asada

I live on an island, void of water. 
A place unlike most others, memorable and isolated. 
Misunderstood, far-away and thirsty. 
A village of immigrants, descendants and born-and-raised. 
"Born here, raised here, stayed here." 
Inherited, passed-down & repeated. 
For better or worse. 
Always with pride and a blind eye. 
A city built over a dry chasm, desperate for a bridge. 
It will be planned over dos de asada. 
A structure built upon a white folding table and a styrofoam plate. 
I'll have a Topo Chico. 
A few fair-skinned folks with their heads in the sand.

--Andrea G., Adult