Coca-Cola Fella
Fitted in velour and not no velvet or velveteen, the Coca-Cola fella needs all the stretch there can be. Middle of the dying mall, taking up the army recruiter’s spot when he should be in the factory. Back like a deadbeat who needs new boots for his truck on this fourth quarter holiday. What do both have in common? Both carry around a shimmery bag, one is already jolly and the other becomes angrily jolly after he drinks the crown royal that was in the bag. Belt buckle made from retired brass doorbell buttons and boots are from fallen horses. Lore thicker than what’s in the plastic or aluminum. It’s not even about being undefeated anymore, the legend is a showcase of immortality. Red on red, which association is he going for. Better not be danger, anger, sensuality, heat, war, or sexuality when his lap is covered with people sitting. Look like the man on the can and trick people into sitting on you for a fee or free, I hope this is not the name of the game. The Coca-Cola fella must have some kind of body dysmorphia, he never looks the same as the man on the can. Something ain’t adding up, glossed over and not talked about enough but I can’t be the only one going crazy this holiday season. I didn’t even know he was sick, the fella at the mall and at the podiatrist’s office look way different than what’s on the aluminum! One minute on the TV he looks like Sling Blade in 2003 then the next hour he looks like Tim “The cocaine man” Taylor. Maybe the fella has a tired face from being thirsty, coke time from October 31st eve to sometime in February means them kidneys must be having a stone ball fight. I know his origins are from long ago but I seen him at the local Michaels right by the snow globe kits, he needs to let the blackface bit go. Robert Downey Jr got a pass because he was beloved but he wasn’t self proclaiming that he was a saint. Don’t fly too close to the sun like Lennon did when he claimed The Beatles were bigger than jesus, you must remember your roots. At least suck in your gut then walk down a couple blocks at your own parade like the trumpet players during mardi gras. Mrs Claus can’t get no shine on the can when you have to hide your ego with a sleeping cap. White hair to go around, age and wisdom never looked so much like stress as it does on you. A michigan man perfected you, Coca-Cola augmented you. Without them you would have been left back home, eating dutch horsemeat and nobody would have known you were coming. As long as they’re around, Santa Claus will be around according to the clause in the agreement. You ain’t nothing but another factory worker, picked out to be a face for every fourth quarter holiday season. Asking people to leave cookies with milk out, hoping the heater curds the milk so you don’t have to buy cheese this year is all a factory worker would ask for and i’m sure it would go better with a coke you con-man. Your boss’s boss is smoking like a chimney, pulling the strings in your narrative as his accountant laughs for him. He gives and takes, you used to have your own commercial on the TV but now the imaginary white bears take the takes. The smelly velour ain’t been washed in so long, money money it costs for that luxury. Tung on that phony itchy beard and “share a coke this holiday” it will say. They say the workshop is at the north pole but you ain’t ever been motivated to leave Florida manufacturing facilities, North pole must be Jacksonville. Ain’t no need to buy toilet paper at them facilities when you fooled the youth for letters. Scared to fly, this factory worker is very replaceable and the stress shows when he goes hats off. Sold a hoax but got damn it, it’s still too realistic to not believe. The sled is the 16 wheel trucks or red vans and the reindeers are just the horsepower found in the engine, they don’t need no colored lights to land them things either. The generous giving is the blanket over something you already owe, the greed doesn’t sink and sail away. The southern simpletons don’t care, give them the wining raffle ticket so they can be the face in their territory. America’s preferred taste ain’t boxed into only america anymore, already elbow deep into the pockets and the greed won’t stop it. Coca-Cola Fella heads down to south of the border where the latin americas begins, third world country is just a county fair asking for a sponsorship. Ain’t no gift given in those funky towns but here comes the fella to gift the thirst with an addiction to thirst. Bottles bigger than boats in a bottle on the other side, bring on home the grand prix trophy! Coca-Cola fella is cold blooded, the kid ain’t ever get toys this time of the year in his life but is offered coke instead.