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  • Sep 10, 2024
  • 2 min read

Four days after cataract surgery, I went to a salon to wash my hair to avoid getting water in my eyes. The salon was in a common storefront in a shopping center near my home,

I pulled open the glass door, and a cavernous room flooded my senses with the ambiance of an auto parts shop. The epoxied concrete floor had been painted a baby poop brown, and there remained white patches where shelves had stood. I sat down on a worn leather chair to wait. A bank of hairdresser’s stations lined the wall. I couldn’t see beyond a partition. I noticed two glass goblets covered in glass balls that sat on them. Each one held a round red Christmas tree decoration.

On a weekday at 4 PM, only two hairdressers were still working. The taller woman, who was around sixty with wispy red hair finished with a client. She and her client hugged at the door as her client left.

The taller hairdresser, named Crystal, placed a cushion on a chair before a sink and asked me to sit there while she brought what she needed. I sat down on the chair but began to slide off the chair. I am only 5 feet tall, my left leg is very weak, and It can not keep traction. It was all I could do to hold on and keep from sliding onto the floor. I felt like a little kid in a high chair. I called for Crystal; she rushed over and acted as a block while calling for the other hairdresser. Together they lifted me to the back of the chair. Crystal placed my foot on my walker seat, and I held on.

She put the hairdresser's plastic bib around my neck and gave me a towel to put over my face so the water wouldn’t get in my eyes. Since I wasn’t sitting high enough, I was even with the sink’s rim.  I leaned back so she could wash my hair. She washed it thoroughly and then began to rinse.

The warm water started to trickle down my back a little. I made sure that the towel was over my face. Then the water began to pour down my back. Soon, I felt a gush of water run down my front! At that, I started to laugh. And Crystal couldn’t help but laugh, too. She apologized between laughs. She hadn’t had that happen in a very long time. My blouse was wet halfway down my front and back. We both laughed hardily at the whole absurd situation. She kept saying at least it was hot outside.

Crystal confided "I really needed that laughter." She continued, "My only child is fifty and has been diagnosed with an incurable form of cancer. She doesn’t have much longer."

  • Aug 22, 2024
  • 1 min read

I want to sleep.

But words won’t keep.

 

Words which delight my tongue.

That live as notes of a song unsung.

 

Words standing patiently in line,

Consigned and aligned to rhyme.

 

Words with a light of their own that want to be aired.

Wary words. The wanton and willful paired.

 

Words hiding in my heart, slats of light timid and true.

Or hidden there, a fawn of innocent speckled light in the dew.

 

Words that lie down together for warmth or huddle in phrases in a heap.

Hibernating words hidden in the womb of my creativity leap.

 

Tumblers from a waterfall of consonants and alliterations weep.

Seeds of metaphor that sprout and later I will reap.

 

Words that seep from the recesses of my grief

Or blow across the page in a moment brief

 

I want to sleep.

But words won’t keep.

 

Fickle Words that skittle away,

At the approaching morning rays

 

Words that have no meaning.

And words with too much meaning

 

I want to sleep.

But words won’t keep.

  • Aug 22, 2024
  • 1 min read

It seems to be true.

No matter what we do.

 

Someone won't like the shape we're in.

 

Teeth too  white

Teeth too yellow

Clothes tight

Clothes billow.

 

Curly hair.

Green hair.

Gray hair

No hair.

 

Blue eyes,

Red eyes,

Dark eyes,

Shifty eyes

 

Hips and thighs,

Size extra wide,

Skin as dry

as Naugahyde.

 

Beauties stare

Billboards blare

Magazine's fare

Advertisers care.

 

All around

I hear the din.

 

Someone won't like the shape we're in.

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