Ode of the Burger Flipper

I know how you see me:

a mindless civil servant,

drone bee,

here to please you

and feed you

til' your wallets are empty

and bellies are full.

But there's more to me

than the name you see

written on my tag,

that reads "Christina"

(which really means "Queen of Sheba").

You see,

when I get home I rip off these clothes,

peel back this mask,

and like Clark Kent changing into Superman,

I become SuperMe.

But you,

you ain't no different from every

Tom, Dick, Jane, and Harry

I see walk into this joint

with two eyes and hands outstretched

payin' five-forty for a premature death.

Patronizin' me

all condescending,

raisin' your voice and gettin' upset

when your order's incorrect

'cause you chose

to chat on your phone

while I repeated

what you needed

to shove down your throat.

You don't know who you're talkin' to.

I bleed blood that's royal blue.

That's right,

a Nubian goddess is pickin' up after you;

throwin' your crap away,

wipin' down your filthy trays,

takin' your shit each and

every day.