Argentinian Colored Glasses Dateline Buenos Aires, between shows
Record Company Big Wig stirs his martini
Don’t let this stuff get you down, he says
Poverty, drugs, prostitution, orphans
They have always been with us
But those of us of class
The intelligentsia
The politically astute
We know how to navigate such issues
Without destroying our spirit
The bar lights sparkle off his
Wrap around sunglasses
And his white, white
Smiling teeth
I look out the picture window
I take a long drag of my brown beer
The plaza la defensa is bathed in sunlight
The freshly washed tiles only accent
The homeless men with their
Cardboard signs and paper cups
Napping while waiting for the evening
Shoppers who drop coins while
Stepping gingerly around their
Greasy pants and worn out shoes.
Hearing my sigh, Mr. Big Wig
Presents me with a pair of sunglasses
Try these on, senior, you’ll feel much better
They wrap fully around letting in no light
Unless it is pleasant and soothing to the eye
Flip that tiny switch near your right ear
See how the dirty hobos fade away
Now you can relax
And free your mind
To pursue your art
So that men like me can sell it
In the market place
To other beautiful people
I must admit
The glasses do clear up the view
But how will I avoid tripping
Over the invisible people
Sleeping on the paving stones?
Ah, my friend
You worry too much
Let me call you a taxi
Record Company Big Wig stirs his martini
Don’t let this stuff get you down, he says
Poverty, drugs, prostitution, orphans
They have always been with us
But those of us of class
The intelligentsia
The politically astute
We know how to navigate such issues
Without destroying our spirit
The bar lights sparkle off his
Wrap around sunglasses
And his white, white
Smiling teeth
I look out the picture window
I take a long drag of my brown beer
The plaza la defensa is bathed in sunlight
The freshly washed tiles only accent
The homeless men with their
Cardboard signs and paper cups
Napping while waiting for the evening
Shoppers who drop coins while
Stepping gingerly around their
Greasy pants and worn out shoes.
Hearing my sigh, Mr. Big Wig
Presents me with a pair of sunglasses
Try these on, senior, you’ll feel much better
They wrap fully around letting in no light
Unless it is pleasant and soothing to the eye
Flip that tiny switch near your right ear
See how the dirty hobos fade away
Now you can relax
And free your mind
To pursue your art
So that men like me can sell it
In the market place
To other beautiful people
I must admit
The glasses do clear up the view
But how will I avoid tripping
Over the invisible people
Sleeping on the paving stones?
Ah, my friend
You worry too much
Let me call you a taxi
