Atop the cracked vinyl
of a swiveling chair
my crown imitated
its base
Jean, like all my Haitian coiffeurs,
spit rapid patois.
Raising his gauge.
Razing with blade.
Sizzling embers of nap,
Black clouds of chaff
Drift down
to surround my kicks like ash.
My eyes followed his flapping
for discernible lessons,
but found loving profanity
and chesty laughter.
“Uh oh! Uh oh!”
on repeat for funny banter
And standing men,
Firing lines of pompous credo:
‘Pippen ain’t SHIT without Jordan
so stop trippin! On that
buuuullshit.’
Squirming on the phonebook
beneath my undeveloped botty,
I observed class rules. The first?
Out of turn comments meet reproach!
Glass window biology tested
Front row chairs on
Fastest head-turn
Booties: Roundness vs. Flatness
And leg-to-breast ratio
Monday can’t be school,
I thought.
