You’re right, this is not a real Mohawk,
My hair, much like the rest of me
Is an intentional manifestation of
Absolute disinformation.
From my eyes that cannot see
Without these tiny pieces of plastic
To my formerly crooked, though now
Perfectly straight teeth.
Look at this grin, ear to fucking ear.
But that is falsified as well.
Much like the sincerity in my voice
when I tell you it would be my pleasure to get you another loaf of that
Hot, fresh, FREE French bread.
But I’ll flash you that big, toothy grin with my
Perfectly straight teeth.
Or that hop in my step when you stop me in my tracks
So I can get you another half cup of ranch for that side salad.
I’ll give you that smile.
That ain’t I so fuckin cute you just want to take me home as a house pet smile
Then proceed to run my ass off to fetch it all
Quick, fast, and in a hurry like.
But there is nothing quite as fake as my appreciation
For that five dollar bill you left
For me on that hundred and three dollar tab.
But alas, I make sure you get that grin.
That shit eating grin.
And believe you me, when that grin finds you, I am eating shit.
The shit I really want to say to your demanding, unappreciative ass.
No, motherfucker, you don’t get free refills on that
Flavored, fresh squeezed lemonade.
Goddamnit, you do not pronounce the “L” in salmon.
I know I learned how to drink without a straw by the time I was 4.
What seems to be the hold up with you?