Member Poem

My entry effaces the barber’s snooze.
Ineffable delight radiates from his mind.
He wraps my neck and shoulders
with a violet silk shawl.
Tethering my thoughts,
I listen.
“Your scalp is parched in the heat of thought.
Beware of baldness.”
His scissors reap fast.
I want trimming, not cropping.
But I am muted
by the incessant flow of his words.
“Men are unnatural in the natural world.”
His tongue moves like a train.
Each topic disappears swiftly.
“People walk back.
Fanatics prance.
Who can teach them human values?”
Snip, snip, snip…
He doesn’t cut my hair the way I wish.
“Some wives are like sticks of dynamite,”
he chuckles.
He focuses more on his talk.
“A lecherous woman tends to be a two-timer.”
He owns a showroom of experiences.
“Never wear a rose already worn by someone.”
I can decipher his metaphorical language.
“Hemmed in by the tradition,
some teachers nip the new trends of their pupils.
Idiots!
Fashion is never stagnant.”
He is an untaught scholar.
“Only the Homo sapiens lose their serenity,
creating complexity,”
He surveys my head.
“Time redraws the patterns of love.”
He cleans my nape with a baby blue brush.
Though the verbal rain ceases,
his words will grow.

Previously published in The Literary Hatchet.