/poem scene

two well dressed english gentlemen are sitting in a southeast asian bar in the 1960's they could be trevor howard and e.g. marshall.. their table has a red table cloth with a gold insignia in the center, and a rock-inflected dance band (the bikini wrestlers) plays knock-offs in the near distance. let's say trevor howard is talking about why he became an international narco agent.. his kid brother drooling for a hit, worthless.. e.g. seems non-plussed, he's blandly moral. if he were a fish, this job just happened to be the particular channel he swam up.

/denouement

a huge bald-headed asian maître d' / danceclub bouncer thug in a perfect black tux and wraparound black sunglasses at night comes to their table with a telephone and says:

which of you are senorita jones?

to which e.g. marshall replies:

we both are, collectively.

/meaning

the meaning is complicated by the existence of several conflicting elements in the scene.

one man will be forced to leave from the information conveyed from the phone call so the collective english gentleman known as senorita jones must play rock paper scissors with itself.

e.g. marshall loses.

during this entire situation, the asian maître d' bouncer-thug keeps neurotically playing the stone paper game with himself but using a white handkerchief as the paper element and his fist as the rock (of course) which he dramatically reveals over and over like a waiter revealing a ham, or a pheasant.

at the end of the scene
as the bouncer turns to go
following e.g. marshall into parts unknown
you clearly see the twin black handles
of a pair of scissors surreptitiously poking out
from his jacket pocket
and somehow you get the idea
that one half of senorita jones

is about to become
for the sake of an example
a red dancer
ala kalamatiano
cooperio
couvert

oh very couvert...


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