turn the table over
scream, leave, we'll be in touch
call me, we'll have lunch
and talk about ex's

wait at red
or you'll be run over by a bus
and then there will be no more "us"
to talk about with caesar salad

hold the dressing
hold the beer
i'm the headlights, you're the deer
both skeptical cult members
both unwilling to be dead
both remembering something funny
in some serious book we read