Barber

"Set yerself right down here,"
    says he
and with the flourish of
    De Bergerac
bibs the tattered man
    in a clean, white shroud
cloud-like
       beneath  the weary storm
of his face.
    And
he smells
    sighs
and surrenders.
    He remembers
the calm comfort
    of his Saturdays
walks in the Quarter
    flowers in his backyard beds
chicory and sugar
    heavy
in the damp Delta air.
    "The usual,"
he tells this stranger
    and
the stranger nods
    smiles
echoes
    "The usual."
    And in the nervous light
of the abandoned Montgomery Wards
    on South Canal Street
San Antonio
    shelter
shop
         home
for this hungry
    huddled
hairy crowd
    the soothing
buzz
    clip
hmmm
    of the barbershop
hypnotizes these
    men once again.
The barbershop
    where men gather
their groaning limbs
    into the sage
leather
    and laughter
taunting
    telling lies
talking
    (women gossip...men talk)
this sanitary sanctuary
    where private conversations
are public
    where the styptic sorrow
of maleness
    is ministered to
with the cool keen-ness
    of a razor wit
where the dandered disappointment
    is forgotten
with a cool splash
    of scented dignity.
"I done sat on my roof
    for four days,
seen bodies float by
    watched my neighbors fly up in the air
to the choppers.
    I fought in Korea
seen the choppers gather
    the wounded
the wandered.
    The worst get off first.
So I held on
    held my wife's hand
till she used the last of her insulin
    and I stopped waving them off
when I knew
    finally
we were the worst.
    Rode a boat
rode a bus
    rode pure, dumb luck
and the grace o' God
    to this place.
Ain't slept in days
    worried
wonderin'
    wishin'.
Held my wife's hand
    the whole time.
We ain't never been apart
    in thirty one years.
Never a night
    not in the same bed.
This morning
    she finally laid her
pretty head down
    on that little blue cot
(too small for the two of us)
    and closed her eyes.
First time in six days.
    Heard the buzz
and I slipped out
here
    like a bee to the hive
came.
    I'm a gentleman, see?
Clean.
    Groomed.
She ain't never seen me
    smelled me like this:
all ragged and rotten.
    What she needs...
what I need...
    is a little dignification.
So just a trim, sir, OK?
    You got any Pomade?
And Miss Julia...
    that's what I call her...
Miss Julia
   she likes a little splash
of that Dominica Bay Rum
    on the goatee
and...hee hee...
    on the side of my neck...
yes, that's right,
    just below the ears.
Here, let me look at that.
    Well, I say!
I believe I am ready for a walk
    through the Quarter now!
Yes, sir.
    There will be pork chops tonight!"
And gathering himself up
    he rises unaided
from the chair.
    Takes the last dollar he owns
and presses it into the clean hand
    of the barber.
"Now you keep the change, hear?"
    And clad regally
in his Salvation Army
    suit of male
flip flops his aromatic way
    back to the cot
back to that small piece of his
    recovered life
his eyes
    flooding with pride
whistling
    smiling
"Yes, yes...
    there will be pork chops tonight!
Mmm
    mmm
        mmm.