The Clip Joint
				(for Al)


Just a trim.
You know:  shape it and keep the length.
The thin red cloak (that I used to think was silk)
snaps at back.  A necklace
of wide white paper follows.

Who are you?  Another new face
with dark hair:  not Linda or Monica or Mary.  
I sit and listen to the clip clip
as scissors snip away
and shape the scissor trance
	I watch younger locks drop to the cloth
	slide to the floor
	a blonde faerie ring binding me
	though I squirm on the red leather booster
	with old brass tacks
hibernation sounds
	fingers pump the chair and turn my head just so
	I can see Dad behind me in the mirror
	small-town talk
	the Arco Go Partol
	"130's backed up through the Airport Circle"
	weather reports on KYW
	"yeah, it's gonna rain t'night
	I just washed the car"
and the tickle of hairs tracing my face on their way down
	"keep your head up"
	serrated scissors cut rough near my ear
	while the air conditioner drips drop to the walk

It's the little things:
lollipops that never stop
the free cut at Christmas 
("after 22 years I can afford one now and then")
the never-ending renovations

Razor hums at my neck and ears
finish off another cut

	"don't forget your lollipop"