my barber,
Alfonso, or rather
former
barber, used to cut
my hair
once a month.
a trim and a shave.
he'd ask me
how the wife was,
the kid,
work.
we'd go through
the news,
the sports page.
it didn't take him long,
but he dragged it
out,
with the clippers,
the scissors and the brush.
then tapping
my face
and neck with something
from a blue bottle
that smelled
like lilacs.
at the end, he'd shake
the striped
sheet off of me
then spin
the chair around,
so i could see myself
in the long mirrors.
okay?
he'd ask. okay, i'd tell
him. thanks, again.
see you in a few weeks.
No comments:
Post a Comment