The New Shampooer

combs the women's shining hair
with giant fingers; he is tender, mesmerized
as any first-time lover.

He moves his bear-bulk
between the tiny sinks, all the while
humming, hoping to please.

He does not realize
how he blesses the wet-haired women,
whose temples have lain untouched
for so very long.

photograph by Kirsten Kapur

1 comment:

Teri and the cats of Curlz and Swirlz said...

So true and the first poem I have ever read about the experience...

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