the man with the corduroy coat

there he is again.
that man with the practiced smile full of gleaming white teeth.
the starbright twinkle of money on his incisor.
the tan in the dead of winter. (not the tan in a can, but the tan that screams perpetual vacation--somewhere with a golf course--I think they have that setting on the tanning beds at the expensive place.)
the trench coat folded strategically over the left arm, the extra bold tie with the sharp dark suit.
such a contrast to the man with the corduroy coat who smells of old spice and beef brisket stew.

~
Music to my ears: Women in Tragedy