the bowling alley barber

i like to part it
on the side
you said as a kid
to the barber,
nervously
eyeing the leather
strap
where he was
sharpeneing
a razor.
with a little
wave in the front,
you say, i use
brylcreme. sure kid,
he says. sure.
he clips and cuts,
jazzes it up
with some spritz.
snipping away
at the thick tops
and sides
with a pair
of long scissors,
then combs it
all into place.
five minutes later
he spins you
around in
the chair, so
that you can
see yourself
in the wall long
mirror. how's
that, he says,
with his lunch
of an italian sub
still on his breath.
he taps
your cheeks
with some blue
scented water,
then dusts around
your ears and neck
with a soft
brush of powder.
undoing the pin he
then snaps
the striped sheet off
and away from
you. there you go
handsome, he
says. just
like new. now go
get em tiger.