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 coconut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a loaded green ascot A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow daks 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