I'm Me.
So what's that?
I'm top shelf
with on-tap prices.
I'm the cop you come to
when you're looking for your vices.
I'm a mob boss
doing soldier work.
I own the building,
but I'm still the soda-jerk.
I'm a manager
working for janitor's wages.
I'm behind bars,
yet I designed these cages.
I'll serve the drinks,
but you'll get the tip.
I'll fix the handle
so you can get a grip.
When you leave early
or show up late,
I'll work overtime
just to clean the last plate.
I'll wipe down the walls
and clear off the sidewalk, too,
to make it safe for you to come in
and call me a fool.
I am the dishwasher.
I am the mop and the broom.
At the end of the night
I'm alone in this cold, dark room.
I'm not looking for a handout,
just someone to lift their head up;
someone to listen,
when I get fed up.
'Cause I am that million dollar payoff
that you spent a dollar to get.
I'm a sympathetic ear,
though my eyes don't give a shit.
I'm a paper cup
filled with expensive wine.
I'm a burnt-out lightbulb,
but I can still shine.
So if I pull up in a limo
and dig through your trash...
wear tailored suits,
though I don't have the cash...
just remember,-
I already paid my fee.
So that's what I am -
I'm simply... me.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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