A haircut is a lot
to ask of anyone.
I can see that now.
L also cut mine
once in the desert
because I asked
and I felt broken—
because I asked
and was broke.
B waited his turn
across from me
with a can of beer.
It wasn't the haircut
I wanted—it was
to have it cut, to
be cared for, or
thought of, to
sit still when
asked to, to
live through
the entirety of
something.