I cut through Hull at twelve-ten o’clock,
Cold wind off Midway, sharp as rock.
Then through the crowd, above the day:
Empanadas, empanadas! —clear as May. 

Foil and steam on folding legs,
Five bucks cash—beef, cheese, or veg.
No credit card will get you lunch,
Just empanadas, cash, grab a bunch. 

She stood there all of last year’s term, 
Through rain that soaked and winds that burned.
Between Hull Gate and Regenstein, 
The best five dollars I’ve spent in time. 

Then one day—nothing. Just brick and snow. 
No foil shine. No voice or hello. 
Some say she found a warmer street.
No ice or snow, she beat the heat.  

Her intentions were clear: 
To bring students joy, smiling ear-to-ear.
I picture her somewhere far from here: 

Still feeding crowds the way she did,
Still yelling loud, still never hid. 

I just miss the midday call, 
The way it stopped the student crawl.
Now noon is quieter, she is gone —
Like campus lost one background song. 

Still walk through Hull with cash in hand,
Just in case she comes back and stands— 

Empanadas, empanadas.