Jan 11
3 min read
Poetry: free prose
The Magic Barber
Take your seats, please
All must go. Closing down. Outta here. Goin’ fishin’
Barber shop on Main Street. The mall’s cut the customers, chopped the butcher, the baker makes no dough.
Chairs x 2 Old school. Leather, iron and chrome. A pretty penny at the antique mart, I’ll bet.
