since you need to go out to eat 
like your life depends on it 
(or your death) 
i serve you 
through a mask 

your humble middleman 
of high cholesterol

you give me orders
like my other bosses 
but you’re the one who pays my bills
every check i get
says this is not a check

but how much can all that matter
especially in a time like this
when i can’t help but wonder 
if black lives really matter to you

between the concealed 
thespian smiles

i can’t help but wonder 
if i’d want to hurt you 
for who you are 

now i don’t mean to be judgmental 
but i know where i am 

now here’s your bloody 
ketchup bottle
i’ll be right back 
with your extra ranch 

while i fetch you 
more sweet tea 
i can’t help but wonder 
if the world also waits on you 
to die so it can change 

or maybe you’re a lovely person
but you can’t tell me 
a good chunk of you 
haven’t spent your lives
eating away 
at someone else’s freedom
until there’s only bones