For Me
By Nic Reiner | Dec 28th, 2009 | Category: Featured Articles, PoetryI’m afraid the guy who cuts
My hair someday will snap, talk
Baseball, slide the razor down my face, pull
My locks as we discuss the demise of the LA Times
And use the scissors on my eyes
Because he swears he sees a dotted line.
Last week I stood in line
At the deli, watched the butcher cut
Salami and sausage, his [...]