a palm full of Old Spice

when

i removed the medicine

cabinet,

from the old bathroom

wall,

circa 1959,

when the house

was built,

i found a small mountain

of razors

rusting on

the ledge of the wooden

frame.

double edged

razors. thin and browned

now.

it's easy to imagine

who stood

in front of this old

mirror

with his face covered

in a lather

of cream and shaved,

putting tissue

on the cuts,

like Marciano.

week after week he must

have pushed

another dull razor

through the slot.

perhaps he turned

left then right,

cleaning up

with a towel, the ears

and nose,

then slapped

on some cologne

before heading out

to warm up the Chevy

before his date.

not much has really

changed.

not much.