A Real Haircut

For the village barber
In Southern Thailand,
I could pay him no
Greater honor
Than allow him
To cut my hair.
Half the village
Would turn out
For the spectacle
As he meticulously
Went about his work,
Basking in the glory
That would be
Talked about
For years to come.
It would be
His claim to fame locally,
And he savored
Every moment
Of the experience,
Prolonging it
As much as he could.
I, who am a glutton
For being pampered,
Relished every moment
As well.
Each hair, it seemed,
Was individually
Trimmed, combed,
And rechecked for perfection
Then cut again
With the simplest of tools
And the greatest of precision.
My face was shaved
And my sideburns
Were trimmed,
Even my nose hairs
Got adjusted.
After all that,
My head and shoulders
Were massaged as well.
This production
Would go on for hours
During which time
I frequently dozed off
In relaxed ecstasy.
For all that,
It might not cost me
The equivalent of
Fifty cents or a dollar.
Barbers over here
Think I am spoiled,
And maybe they are not
The only ones who think so,
But I assure you,
That is the way
A real haircut
Should be done.