She cuts my hair with the set
of electric clippers I ordered
from a catalog I found left
on a bench while I was lost.
I was mostly just surprised
they still made catalogs.
She told me she wanted a million
dogs and to raise all their pups
like they were children of her own.
I could condone this kind of future
not that she needed me to sign off
on her dreams, but still it seems
like when people talk like that,
about what they want in the abstract
they are looking to see if
what they want is something real.
I like the way the cutting feels
and how it clears up all the chaos
of a mop left just to tangle into something
that can never be undone.
She finished where she started from
and she showed me my face in the mirror.
She asked me if it looked alright,
and I told her it was pretty clear
that everything about me that was
worth anything at all came from
her and all she did for me,
it was the best I ever saw.

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