The Bowl Cut Poem by Allen Blue

I've always hated getting a haircut,
because, despite my protestations,
the only style that seems befitting
for a man with Asian hair
is unfortunately the bowl cut.

I explained to the stylist today
that I wasn't trying to be an extra
in a 70s Kung-Fu film,
so I didn't need the bowl cut.
She nodded without really listening
and gave it to me anyway.

It was as I watched my bangs
being trimmed on the edge of a ruler
that I realized a salon
isn't the place for a haircut;
it's just a pretense for vanity
and a moment to feel attractive
in front of a mirror.
So, I wondered for a moment,
in front of a mirror,
how I could possibly feel attractive
while my hair was being molded
to fit with uncanny precision
into something people use
to mix their salads and eat their soup.