Ah how I miss thee...a poem

I´m missing many American things
the list is long and plenty
I´d kill for a salad, a pizza, some chicken
or a chai frappacino venti.

I never knew how much I´d miss
a bottle of ranch dressing,
peanut butter, rootbeer too,
tv shows with Debra Messing.

I can´t explain how much I crave
a whole day of wearing high heels
or driving my car (though not very far)
and not having to guess at my meals.

I like the snails and the squid, I do
but maybe not in my spaghetti
they warned me it´s different here, change is so good
but I tell you I just wasn´t ready.

I miss all my friends there, my family, my lover
mi amigos , mi familia , mi amante,
I´d love to peruse the familiar menu
in a Ghetto Amero Restaurante´.

I do love the culture, the sights here, the people
and even the street vendors malo arte´
but oh how I miss, from the depths of my soul
My safe haven, my fortress, my WalMart(e).