Problems.

12:40 in the afternoon

Thursday

heart of the desert

sitting here waiting

post flu

sweat subsiding

waiting for a

haircut

listening to the conversations

old men talking about

cars and cops and kids

I sit here because I need to feel like I'm doing something

anything

thinking about the sunlight

-out there

-a clean shave

-a drive through the

mountains

I watch the old guy

trim another old guy's

mustache

the shop smells like

Aqua Velva and

puppy breath

the guy in the chair leaves

I feel the sweat building

on the back of my neck

while the barber gets ready

for me

I sit, get wrapped around

the neck and torso

and think about how every

haircut has the

element of the very

first one

the clippers fire up

how short?

1 and a half on top

1 on the sides, pal.

The old boy goes to work

and we talk

my flu

his wife's flu

how she got mad at him

when he covered her face with

the sheet to keep her from coughing on him

he runs the clipper behind

my ear:

And I told her, be happy

it wasn't a pillow

then you'd

have problems.

We both broke up

laughing

and

I watched the street

from the side

of my head

and out there

the heat looked good

and

I wanted a drink.