From the dream world I crossed
            into yours to get a haircut,
            but it wasn't that simple.
            The first time I saw you was after
            I had argued with the barber about
            the length of my sideburns
            and if such luxuries were permitted in hell.
            Then you caught my eye: there you were,
            sweeping cut hair of all sorts
            into a black plastic dust-bin
            with a handsome straw broom;
            Your legs were reduced to stumps
            and there was a small bump in the floor
            where the hair was burnt to ash.
            Otherwise, you were young and alive,
            wearing a pale-blue sweater vest,
            your hair neat as the barber's son--
            I was embarrassed to see you there
            seemingly happy in your task
            while I had nothing else to do but
            leave, hoping to sweat in the cool
            fall air of my real world, later,
            when the sun cleared the trees.

Copyright © Albino Carrillo, 2006. All Rights Reserved.