Daily Archives: 17 November 2016

November Verse 8

November Verse 8: Haircut 
They meant it nicely: ‘It’s so fluffy!’
‘Einstein!’ ‘Kramer!’ ‘Snow on top!’
Skype’s corner pic made me look scruffy.
Time at last to go the chop.
Up Enmore Road to Con the barber,
best haircut this side of the Harbour:
‘Good morning, sir. What’s it for you?’
‘Short.’ ‘Short on top?’ ‘Yes, number two.’
So clippers, scissors, cut-throat razor
go to work and soon I’m shorn –
ears, nostrils, eyebrows smooth as lawn.
My head’s now ordered but, rash gazer,
wipe your eye, this state won’t last
the summer out. Hair grows too fast.