My Dad took me to
There was one man working-
He may have been the owner.
My dad and some other “friends” came in
The barber asked me- no told me to wait for him.
I understand now there was a backroom
He, my dad and the others.
Traveling with my dad I learned quickly to carry a book
I mean mom wouldn’t let me take my game-boy
They entered the public space more excited than they all had left
Before walking in my dad seemed as phlegmatic as death
Nostrils covered with ash
Dad took me home
My Mom asked where had we been
I said the barbershop
She said: “Your hair isn’t cut…”
I now realize wherever there was a party, there dad was.