Three Poems

FIRST POEM

Ramble on, talk, banter,

pander with candor as you trim.

The barbershop is us;

my mother, and my brother, and

another, and another.

My mother, clearly weary,

watches her Rapunzel bundle

land in angles on the floor.

Ding dong, hair gone.

The barber says to us

"Sleep creeps, rest now,"

and slowly starts to sweep.

SECOND POEM

I see myself in the bathroom mirror,

pink and smooth as a baby, naked

as a sphynx and just as old. I'm cold

and shaking, quietly crying.

The doctor said it was more than likely

that I would end up like this.

They said I'd no longer be Rapunzel;

they didn't tell me I'd be an ogre.

It fell out like dead leaves fall

off an aging tree. It landed everywhere

and wherever it landed it stayed,

as though it might take root.

I see myself in the bathroom mirror;

smooth as a baby, cold and shaking,

naked and crying.

THIRD POEM

Bill feels a chill, a thrill

if you will, as he spies

a customer in the lot.

Bill, in his tweed blazer,

stands to adjust his tie

and his smile. Both are

crooked.

He grabs his sunglasses,

licks a spot off his shoes,

pulls out the crease in his slacks.

He throws back his shoulders

and strolls into the lot, speaking

and laughing loudly.

His laughter is matched by

the man at the car, who points

and giggles at Bill's head.

Bill's smile falters. His fingers

crawl to his crown and find

his toupee askew.

Bill feels ill, a chill

if you will, as he leaves

the customer in the lot.