Pulling a Fast One in the Slow Lane

I could eat, I think I could eat.
There is money in my pocket which
greatly reduces instances of famine.
The poor are not poor because of the rich,
but the rich are most definitely rich
because of the poor. It seems like a silly
delineation to make, but it is an important
one, to me I mean; I am not hungry but I
could eat. Some form of tubed meat in a
warm bun perhaps? Scraping off the poppy seeds
so squawking pigeons can fail drug tests.
I have never liked birds. Something about the
needy way they sound; not at all like a Billie
Holiday record. I believe her in a way I have
never believed birds. And the way they hop around
when they can fly seems like the fake Rolex guy
up 7^th street trying to pull a fast one in the slow lane.
I refuse to go to anything, I let it come to me at a speed
and proportion I am good with. Which is why
I know I should eat something even though
I am not that hungry. A bag of salted pretzels perhaps.
Almost anything will do.