At the Barbershop…

At the Barbershop...

At the barbershop,
Where the exigencies of the day
Take a back seat to that long-anticipated
Urban interlude, wherein daily struggles
Are expounded in raw eloquence,
Intertwined with reflections of perennial fears,
Intermittent joys, and ever-fleeting souvenirs of purpose,
Where once a week Time can be seen walking by,
Entering inconspicuously, nodding, smiling,
Hanging his fedora on the rack while discarding his wrist watch.

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