Spring (dream 3)

The garden’s full of spring shoots
but weeds are running the show.

On the street I meet young Jos. “You need
a haircut,” he says.

“Really? Do I?” I check my reflection in
a window. The hair indeed is long and thick, imposter’s hair.

The houses have already had their breakfast, they’re flexing.

“Take me to the barber post-haste Jos.”

Through an alley, round the back of a farm crêche. Rabbits
scattered in long juicy grass mean we have to watch our step.

I enter from the left wing.
There are red hills in the distance.

“Welcome Jos. Is this your friend? You would like a haircut?”
She is Italian and holds a rabbit under her arm.

I wait in a waiting room. Jos and the woman discuss my cut.
“We’ll give him a background of flowers,” says the woman.

Suddenly I am small
and bald.