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.