Boca Raton

Do your teeth gleam from the bottom row?
Are you leaving this bodega with that envelope? (Nope)
Do your dreams bleed into your collar bone?
Are you down, facing dogs into a llama pose?
Do your dominos match your milliamps?
Is this love or just more blood up on my ceiling fan?
Is the choice yours? Or are your feeling glands
Not receiving that you’re peeling off your shielding and
You might need a hand to get your palms read
When you are sitting in the middle of the wrong friends
Is this thing on? Are you God blessed?
If your shining moment’s going to an Ozzfest
Do you contest that you can juggle stuff?
Does that fedora get rewarded on the shuttle bus?
Were you single wide before you Double Tree’d?
Then this is 1−800-YOU-SHOULD-FUCK-WITH-ME