Have a Dusty Burger and Coke
thinkin’ how those vegetarians don’t eat meat.
Buddy Tommy likes the skinny pink waitress,
gonna introduce her ears to her feet.
Ex-girlfriend walks in with her husband,
French goblin whose hygiene can offend.
His politics are socialist,
hers are pretend.
Women here don’t know too much or too hard,
started buying thongs at age nine.
Boys wear their ties on Friday nights
and pants much tighter than mine.
Hubby looks like a hip Castro,
got a dirt ’stache he’s proud of.
He’s high on something,
she thinks it’s love.
Tommy gets a refill of water,
touches Pink’s leg as she leans to pour.
She’s got some kind of ass
and legs longer than the Vietnam War.
My friend asks her to sit down
but her shift just started.
“Wanna bang later?” he proposes,
this shit is uncharted.
Waitress grins and grabs Tommy’s arm,
they split down the hall someplace.
Glance over at spiffy French guy,
little bastard’s getting to second base.
I sip some cola from the rim of my can,
pick up the Dusty Burg for a bite.
The big patty drips like sex,
I’m a vegetarian overnight.
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