barbershop in the rain
It’s raining again at the barbershop,
it always seems to be raining when I get my hair cut,
but it’s OK. I simply sit there like the Sphinx
and think of my brother,
how he used to work in a barbershop
so many years ago and he’d cut my hair
for free, of course, on the weekends.
They always play that horrible elevator/dentist music,
that soft pop crap that makes you wonder
where the devil your old girlfriend is living now
and what her husband is like.
