0029 It's Haircut Day Poem by Michael Shepherd
0029 It's Haircut Day
Oh dear it’s haircut day
I guess I should be grateful –
she comes round to the house
and cuts what’s left up there for
almost next to nothing, these days
she’s a bright cookie but
no conversationalist
so I attempt to make pleasant small talk
for both our benefits I like to think
but if I say something she disagrees with
like who sells the best fish around here
or immigration
she corrects me with such withering scorn
that I feel I should apply for
institutionalisation. Or cremation.
my masculine side says stuff her,
don’t even try
so I have to call on
my feminine side
to think, to be like that
she must have had an awful childhood
or adolescence, or both
'Fate with the abhorréd shears...' (classical quote)
she’s due now – report back later
I knew I was missing out on something by cutting my own hair. I save money but I miss out on the interactions. Conversations with hairdressers and taxi drivers - people whose hands you put your life into - can be quite interesting. I'm sure you've got a few more poems in you from these encounters.
..going anywhere nice for your holidays? ..been anywhere nice for your holidays? ..my word, there's not much here, but hasn't it gone thick?
Michael, What a picture you paint. I'm sure you can access your feminine side. love, Allie with the smart Toorak stylish hair cut
.... and of course she who wields the scissors is one to be feared. True though, isn't it, that home hairdressers are something of their own cariacture, which you paint perfectly (and a pretty sight is isn't, especially...) .. the withering looks if you err from their 'correct' opinions on such subjects of equal importance, fish and immigration. Yep, can just see it - and see ya when you're shorn, handsome! t x
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4/25/2024 12:27:19 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I enjoyed this poem the ending masterful I like endings that cut short the poem leaving the reader hanging