Wednesday, June 25, 2014

SOLIPSISTIC IN MY SPARE TIME

Sitting rumpled
damp and

lowdown—in a nonetheless
trumped-

up and
loud pivoting chair—my slippery 
existence 

starts to dilate
while I'm waiting—

accosted by several thinlipped
and skinny 
iced tea offers and

such chill!
satellite 
radio blasting;

even the crumpled up 
hair on my head
is starting to feel

a little 
less real 
than I'm sure it did 

just a minute before—on curious
account of this
insidiously 

frigid air! currently—snaking
like heck
around this little chrome

hell of a barbershop.

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