the barber shop

theres something to be said for the energy, the monotony,
the laughing, the yelling, the smiles, the snarky commentary,
the consistent background music, the dirtiness,
that makes the women cut their eyes at each other
and the men think that they can solve all of the world's problems in the amount of time it takes to get a shapeup
its disheartening and gratifying
irritating and intriguing
the slow-motion train wreck that you cant tear your ears away from for fear that the other half of the room will errupt in laughter and you would have missed the best joke of the day
I havent quite figured out what makes people believe that whomever is stuck waiting on their seat in the chair has cash to spend on desserts, containers of fruit,
shoes from boxes in the trunk of your car
or to peruse your personal adult video collection grown so large youve resorted to selling or renting some of your favorites while you wait too
I didnt grow up in this world I, lack the social disgraces it takes to sit in a room full of people and pretend not to be interested until you are
then jump full-on into a raucous, overly-animated portrayal of your own idea like its the best thing since sliced bread
and so Im uncomfortable and a little threatened
so I sit, quietly
and pretend that Im just in high school again
trying my damnest to avoid all oncoming attention
and pay enough mind at the same time in an attempt to pick up, little by little how to navigate this world better next time
after all, if I can manage to stay on schedule
tuck my aniety in my back pocket
and leave my insecurity in the car
I'll be back next week