Man With The Woman Head

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 profile.

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 cocoanut in a pink seashell caught the tongue

And knotted into thin white strings.

Charcoal grey eisenhower jacket zipped into 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 restaurant in hollywood,

So this was a drive-in restaurant in hollywood.