And let's see what we have here.
Another short prose piece.
"Reinhardt, 12-year-old barber dropped my mother's sewing
scissors onto the floor and ran out
the house leaving me in the kitchen blinking the small eyes
of a dull chicken.
My hair lay in the dish towel wrapped around my shoulders
and on the floor with a few renegade
strands floating through the air.
I got up and looked in the hallway mirror.
My new haircut had all kinds of weird angles.
It parted on the right, the left, and even down the center.
My scalp was bluish.
There was so much hair gone my nose was huge as an evil root.
[LAUGHTER]
I'm going to get that goddamn Okie, I promised myself.
I swept the floor and snapped the towel on the back porch.
I chased down some floating hair strands
and went outside to look for him.
The sun glared on the asphalt. The street
was empty of dogs and kids.
Mrs. Prince was whacking a dust mop on the holly bush.
I walked down to Romaine playground
which except for the poor--
except for around the pool, look deserted.
I borrowed Caveman's swimming trunks."
Caveman was a guy in our street.
"He was through swimming for the day
so I decided to postpone my hunt for Reinhardt
and jumped into the public pool of 50 Mexican kids
beating blue water white.
My school friend Alfonso swam crocodile
style, his mouth and nose underwater
but his eyes on the surface.
He stood up and asked about my head.
I explained it was a new haircut and he ran a finger
through one of my parts.
I pushed him away and he returned to his crocodile swim.
I stayed most of that afternoon on the bottom
of the pool avoiding my brother and sister who
had shown up with towels over their shoulders.
I liked the sound of kicking legs and the dreamlike sight
of other kids holding their breath underwater with eyes
open and seaweed hair wavering about.
I came up for air, looked around at the racket,
and sank once more to the bottom of the deep end of the pool
where the water was cleaner from not being touched.
Exhausted and red eyed from the chlorine,
I got out after two hours, changed
in the gray shadows of the men's room
and returned the swimming trunks to Caveman
who was playing ping pong with a crushed ball.
My brother Rick had already dried from swimming,
looked at my haircut and asked what happened.
I ignored him and played Sorry and then Foursquare.
Finally a night of hunger in my stomach I returned
home racing from a patch--
from patch to patch of shade.
Like a dummy I had forgotten my shoes.
I had also forgotten about my haircut.
Mom was at the stove with steamed up glasses,
refrying beans with one hand on her hip.
Over dinner the fog cleared from her lenses
and she asked, what happened to your hair?
[LAUGHTER]
I touched the top of my head, shocked mouth open
to reveal bits of half-chomped tortilla.
I remembered Reinhardt chuckling and the hair
parachuting to the floor.
I remembered the cold scissors around my ears.
Mom puckered her mouth into a bud of angry lines.
She ripped the tortilla and said she would fix me later.
After dinner she cut the rest of my hair
in the back yard lawn, yanged roughly at each snip
and left me as--
left me as bald as a belly of a boneless chicken.
I looked in the mirror and scared myself.
Hate was in my heart and I imagined
Reinhardt sitting in his own kitchen
with a towel around his neck.
I felt better only after Mother said
we were having Kool-Aid ice cubes for dessert.
I sucked on three cherry flavored cubes in the backyard
and I did cartwheels with my sister.
I tried to forget about my hair.
My palms tangled when I raked them across--
raked them over the bristles.
My brother didn't tease me because he
was feeling too sad about his girlfriend moving away.
My stepfather, home late from work and red
faced from drinking at Uncle Tom's Cabin,
grinned at me as he held onto the wall.
He said he liked my hair because it made me look like a marine.
He dug into his pocket for some change
and handed me a nickel, three pennies, and then
his nail clipper.
His eyes floated in alcohol.
He looked at the nail clipper and said
I've got one like that.
[LAUGHTER]
Before I got into bed, I curled 30 pound weights in the garage
under the halo of a 20 watt bulb feeling strong
because a ribbon of sweat began to run from my armpits.
I was sure that if my mother were trapped under a car wheel,
I could save her with my leg strength.
I stood in front of the mirror.
My head didn't look that bad.
I was as lean as Mrs. Prince's dust mop but strong I thought.
I made a shiny muscle in my right arm
and bared my teeth all the way to my gums.
I ran a hand through my baldness.
For three weeks smooth was my favorite feeling."
OK.
[APPLAUSE]