Pistis

Your Mind on the Market

Your mind was on the market

Late Friday night

For five dollars a pound. 

It was the dinner special, 

And if you smothered it with a college degree, 

It cost extra, by a dollar fifty.

It was ordered according to taste. 

The happy customer had a bit of a sweet tooth 

For something clever,

But not too forward thinking. 

Nothing too outlandish, nothing

To disturb his sensitive tongue.

He wouldn't bite into a candidate,

Because he hears how those people crave, 

And he wouldn't want anyone to think he tastes as they do.

You understand, you do. 

He devoured you, 

Then his mind was on the market, too.

Your mind was on the market, 

But don't feel too bad about it. 

Minds are on the market most Friday nights.

If they must be somewhere, 

They might as well be between fork and knife.

They cost just enough 

To impress a date, 

Without breaking the bank. 

You understand, you do.

They're tangy and, if you want, they're juicy, too. 

A couple might share the same mind--

She gets one half, he gets the other.

They'll find endless things to talk about.

Your mind was on the market, 

But it was your idea. 

Those butchers, 

They know exactly how to sell it. 

They made you sound so good to you,

You sold yourself to the menu. 

They cut you up 

With you anticipating.

You said, 

"In my life, 

I never knew where I was going, 

But now I do. 

I'll be with you."