I’ve got an offer you can’t refuse.

I’m a businessman, see?

Selling bits of myself, both new and used,

All the things that make me me.

Handsomely packaged in words to preserve some mystery.

Because I’m an honest man but selling yourself is still scary.

Though truthfully I’m stuffed with my own company,

So I take it back, dig in, it’s all free.

And please treat me

like the leftover bag of chips in the lunchroom,

The crumbs you start eyeing when you know no one is near you.

Do it quick and don’t get caught with your head in the bag.

Jagged knife blade potato chips cut your gums to pieces.

Blood seasoned with other people’s finger greases

Traces of doorknobs and 7–11 receipts,

All collected from lives you won’t live

By people you can’t be.