Wednesday, July 20, 2005

city photography

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The Mead Moon

© Masalla Galleries 2005

The Trocadero Cafe

A huge muscular doorman with crewcut hair stands at the entrance. Oblivious to the cool shadows of the evening, unaware of the seedy surroundings of the street. He wears only a heavily starched white shirt under wide black suspenders, black serge razor-crease slacks and highly polished leather bankers. He is intimidation in black and white and hard edges. His grey eyes capable of transition between friendly greeting and steely stare.

I know a place on the other side of town
Some people go there just to play
Opens at night about half past ten an' never closes until dawn
You can get what you want at the Trocadero Cafe.

Midnight and gossip are the bill of fare
Ev'ryone dining with a view
Wear what you want but you can't get in unless you got your best dress on,
'cause you're part of the scene an' there's someone watching you too.

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