Love Will Burst Your Heart

“Go-or-or do,” sung cinnamon-skinned, pretty, little Graciela up to Gordo through the sputtering smoke of his sizzling sausage cart. “Por favor,” said Gordo, squeezing onto his grill yet another floppy bacon-wrapped-sausage; “don’ go calling me Gordo no more, I been rebajaing my weights.” “But I bring you flores,” Graciella whispered in a tender, husky voice, through Gordo’s popping sputters, holding her vase-bouquet of yellow ranunculus, purple anemones,...