the hair cut

back in the day 

i loved my barber, Giovani,

a hefty

older fellow from Italy

with big bushy

eyebrows. i think he may

have been connected

at some point

and was now

in a witness protection

program.

he smelled

of onions

and garlic, a spot of red

sauce always on his shirt,

but he did he job.

i had some hair back

then,

so he had his work

cut out for him.

i'd bring him in a picture

of bobby sherman

or billy idol,

whatever era we were

in and said,

there it is.

that's the cut i want.

he'd laugh then

turn around

and take a swig

of chianti from his scissors

drawer

and away we'd go.

he was good with sharpened

blade

when he trimmed my

sideburns.