Fancy meeting you in a place like this
drinks flow easy, and please don't tip.
Plastic cups crushed underfoot, stale beer kiss
The fumes stir the noise resting on my lip
A bartender's work is philanthropy
Cupid arrows thrown in a mixer
Buzzing hums massage the worker bee
the unpleasant pulse needs a spirited elixir
Won't you taxi home and stroke my drunk feet?
The tom-tom's throb a calypso massage.
And we'll cuddle/cry. Wouldn't that be neat?
In my illegal studio garage.
I'll pour the drinks and smile down the resent
this sullen task: a tender's lament.