lost in queens

i watched his finger tap a samba beat, listening to vivaldi,
but he whispered e.merman jollies from a corner la-z-boy

and still, the sun will set as he darks the air with shades
and little torments, and still, he breathes his minor key
complaints, warbly rodondos, caprices in a sutra style

why am i lost in queens, besotted by some sweet fandango,
causing gently with my old-man and sillied by the sun

why do i fill him up with my 7-penny stories, buy vanilla
frapaccinos for this malted debonair, in his store front
parlor, in his lounge left discarded by a disco dancing swell

he's drawn with such casual dissidence, a jangly composition
and relishes my lies with a hunger raw and sharpened for a feast

or have we simply been misplaced, and chance would have us
make our waltz, make us giddy with our heady and flamboyant
spins, a doo-wop boy and a barber with a sunday night despair

give me my salty whiskey, if i'm to while away the day, so i can
sing some janis joplin, and listen to vivaldi, and finally go my way