Age 48 youth’s decline has begun
still perceived as largely present
summer diminishing to autumn.
Shorter temperatures
longer nights.
The glass mandated half full.
Pride forms that hair is still abundant
and the same colour as birth
workload has neglected scheduled pruning.
Scruffy
foolish without the cover of youth or eccentricity.
A haircut
non-intimate intimacy.
Physical proximity
rapid fire questions of work,
of family,
of dreams.
Bodies pressed. Indecent.
unlawful in social context.
A constantly changing cast
of impossibly young stylists.
Truth knows hair like this has no style
but vanity asks if something could be done
the look says, “ I’m a hairdresser not a cosmetic surgeon.”
Fallen pride retreats to self effacement
I tell her I’m lucky to have hair at my age
“ain’t that the truth,” the 13-year-old look-alike shrieks
making 48 seem like 95.
For the back story click Backstage
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