Are you with me on this people?
The man with the woman head
Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out,
a mixture of Oriental and early
vaudeville jazz poofter,
forming a hard, beetle- like triangular chin
much like a praying mantis.
Smoky razor- cut,
low on the ear neck pro file.
The face the color of a nicotine-
stained hand.
Dark circles collected under the wrinkled,
folded eyes,
map- like from too much turquoise
eyepaint.
He showed his old tongue through
ill- fitting wooden teeth,
stained from too much opium,
chipped from the years.
The feet, brown wrinkles
above straw loafers.
A piece of co coanut in a pink sea
shell caught the tongue
and knotted into thin white strings.
Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped
in to a load(?) of green ascot.
A coil of ashes collected on the
white- on- yellow dacs.
Four slender bones with
rings and nails
endured the weight of a hard fast black
rubber cigarette holder.
I could just make out Ace as he
carried the tray and mouthed,
"You cheap son of a bitch"
as a straw fell out of a Coke,
cartwheeled into the gutter.
So this was a drive- in
restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive- in
res taurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive- in
restaurant in Hollywood