the mcdonald’s man talks to you
but he doesn’t want to be
your friend
and neither i, his
because fuck the mcdonald’s man
and every dream he’s ever had
and for that matter
fuck me too
his paycheck lies behind
handing me my plastic
and my satisfaction lies behind
this transaction going flawlessly
so i can put it in gear
and get down the road
and foreget his face
and he mine.

we’re forgettable people,
i and the mcdonald’s man

we are seen yet unseen
or relativly anonymous

we are unimportance personified
with no books or pictures
in our names
and i am uncertain
if that will ever hold any weight
at all.