Flavor

Everything meticulous. Look at me Have you seen one thing that might be Even slightly defined as exciting or remotely conspicuous? No. Do I look suspicious? I’m a white man, 40 years old. So no I exploit this. Suburban camo, cops avoid this And I mastered the art. Never set myself apart I never get better than the mean average But I’m mean when it’s time to start Just look at my car. Drive by and forget Some kind of import, wasn’t it? Quite quick with a favor. They call me a really good neighbor If you saw me mowing my lawn, you’d move right on With a nod or a wave or maybe a chat But you’d keep it brief. I am so uninteresting That’s what I need you to think I stay sharp, don’t smoke. Don’t drink Don’t jeopardize my privacy I pull the shades down, I eat Lock the doors and close up all the curtains I don't want them to know how I'm working Flavor I got this friend. Well, not really this friend but this guy I know Well, I don’t really know his name but I know where to go And I know what to bring—one cooler and a band Knock three times, then scram. Lay low Don’t sit there wringing my hands Wait for the page. Get it Scram Pick it up—oh man, that’s nice Feel so heavy packed with ice This weight is reassuring. It’s great, my smile’s wide Slow gate, no need to hurry. At home, it’s piled high Open up, my eyes get massive. Dark red and lots of plastic Unzip it. Then sniff it. It’s fresh it smells fantastic I don’t know where he gets it, but he keeps his prices realistic It’s nice, it’s so consistent. Always finishes my list it's Awesome. And so discreet. Lets me hook up once a week Some are gamey, some are sweet Don’t complain, bon appétit! I just love it, so unique. When I eat, I deeply think: Who was this and who was that? Lick the gristle, chew the fat Thick or slender, tough or tender Every cut—it’s in the bag From the tongue to the lung, I’m no vegetarian Ground chuck, pot luck, seven courses—never one Off the grill, it’s a mess. Au jus—it tastes the best Though I only dine alone, I hope you’ll be my dinner guest Lock the doors and close up all the curtains I don't want them to know how I'm working Flavor Standing over a stove, my reflection Bits and pieces undergo convection Flavor