ten women in the hair salon
as i
paper the far wall
with a black
leather like
fabric.
i listen
to them chatter, some with
their hair
wet
and being colored, others
being cut,
some being combed
and brushed,
the dryers on full blast.
there's music too.
i listen
to them talk about
their lives,
their husbands,
their children, their vacations
as the chairs
spin around.
it's veritable
beehive.
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