Swirling Into the Bit-Stream
In My Favourite
Little Border Town
and suddenly
I’m back in the nest,
swirling into the bit-stream,
lights and colours moving around me
night has fallen
upon this beautiful little border town
and I find myself at the roundabout,
cigarette burning down
in an ancient barber’s chair
some of the people
I thought I once knew
have forgotten my face
and talk to me
in a confusing tongue
but I just smile
and nod my head,
reclining slowly
in a soft leather chair
when my hair
begins to fall
I realize
I’ve made a mistake
but it’s too late
to turn back now
a pipe-cleaner jiggles and tickles
the inside of my ears
my forehead is shaved,
along with my cheeks
and the backs of my ears
strange oils and powders
disappear into my pores
and just as I’m
about to fall asleep,
powerful hands
massage my scalp,
pinch me between the eyes
and expertly crack my neck
rising from the barber’s chair,
looking into the mirror
upon my shiny bald head,
I realize
I’m back
in the nest;
swirling
into
the bit-stream,
lights and colours
moving around me
