Tunes

TUNES

Next to the cattle market
The barbers, my old man called
‘Tunes’
I hated haircuts
‘Right to the wood’ he ordered
Quick and cheap
The graders always sounded
Chainsaw-ish as he flicked the
Switch.
It was scary, what was he cutting?
On the other side of the wall
Stood patched cows. Weary legged
From standing so still
Fingers pointing from flat cap
Farmers.
Some days there was a smell
As the door was left open
And the waft of dung drifted in.
It took me away for a moment
From the chopping teeth slicing my hair
But soon they would be herded
Quick and cheap
‘Right to the bone’