The Street Feels As Empty As My Head Does, A Poem by Chris Russell

Do I realize I’m cutting all my hair off?

Do I realize I’m trying to make myself

look cleaner because I need to believe

I can be? Sure, I do.

But when I walk out of the barbershop

the atmosphere of the street

feels as empty as my head does,

and there is nothing to grab onto,

and for a moment I’m not checking my

phone the way I usually do, but just there,

practically naked, like I’ve just been born.

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