POEM 10: Barber Shop

He cuts my hair as I asked him

Trim the tops, shave the edges

Spray bottles, little gossips

About lovely comets passing by the window sill.

I look into the wide mirror and see

His and their shooting eyes wondrously untangling

The comets' tails, the snowballs' cosmos

Then for a few seconds more, they grin and whisper,

"Her breasts look nice, her waist's just perfect"

Telescopes, they pick their comets from the sea of stars

Peering into space, they lose track of what's waiting at home

And maybe they lose themselves, too.

Inside their disgraceful minds, they dissect the comet and

Shiver.

Just staring at comets, their thirsty souls are invigorated again

Rejuvenated by the sight of an unsuspecting passer-by.

In their hollow skulls, they cut her hair, not mine

Even her clothes, her soul, her name, her, all in the name of

Shiver.

Stargazing telescopically, they forget about me

In the cushioned seat, waiting for my haircut

Because even the flashy neon lights

Of vibrant red, blue, and white

Could never replicate a male gaze's delight.

Sitting among the dazed, I look away from the comets

To firmly close my eyes and promise to the rest of the universe

that these are the lost astronomers

I would never aspire to be.

Written 7th December, 2021.

Poem copyright © 2021 by Peter Ryuken B. Hermosura, “Barber Shop”

Author's Annotations

Barber Shop is an admittedly disturbing poem about the disgusting behavior among many in our current generation: sexual objectification. I made this poem after hearing barbers in my favorite barbershop talk about the breasts of passing women by the window while they were giving me a haircut. Disgusted, lost for words, and disturbed, I wrote this poem to reflect that experience and at least be one to oppose this unacceptable behavior among today's men.