Berlin / Moabit Poem by Jozef Neumann

old man sitting by
the side of the road
on a yellow plastic chair
in front of his barbershop
the heat of the sun
is meltinge with the hot
diesel of the lorries rolling by
he has put a little parasol
next to his chair
waiting for me
his only client

coffee?
I nod
he brings coffee
and bends over to me
not too short, he says
in italian-german
not too short, I say
he nods and begins his work
he cuts my hair
moving slowly like a
planet around me
I watch him do his work
I notice the hair
getting too short
but I don't say nothing
he cuts my eyebrows
even the hair of my nose

when he is done, I look
like I was entering
worldwar II, neck and back
of the head shaven
as he had learned to do
a lifetime ago
I look in the mirror
he looks at me and takes
the small money for the job
see you in half a year
or so, I say
he nods, handing me
a cigarette back
not too short, he says