The air was thick and sweet with the aroma from Vitalis and aftershave.

The room was bright and clean; the barber chairs just left of the hallway.

Old men were gathered around talking of war; old dogs and the passing life.

I then walked in with my long hair and beard; silence fell as they turned ghastly white.

The barber looked up at me from the customer who sat wide eyed in his chair.

He said that if it’s the Salvation Army you are looking for; it’s a good two blocks from here.

I told him in humble speak… no sir; it is not the Salvation Army that I do seek.

I then said to him that it was of his service that I was in desperate need.

The men that were gathered and once silenced from my entry into their domain,

soon began to speak again and from laughter I spied more than one refrain.

I thought of how long it has been since I had entered into such a hallowed place.

I thought of my youth and then when I went to boot and the sadistic pleasure on the navy barbers face.

Yet nevertheless here was I once again, hair down to there facing another barbers grin.

He asked polite when to his chair I did arrive what it will be for me today?

I looked into the mirror; I looked at all the old men gathered around.

And I said…I need not a trim, I need to look like the new kid in town.

So here it is I…former hippie from days gone by…my hair is all gone, my beard shaved away, no longer now can dear Ed to me now say…”get a haircut you old hippie, its no longer 1968” Thanks Ed…this song is for you…….

The Song From The Musical (HAIR)

She asks me why
I'm just a hairy guy
I'm hairy noon and night
Hair that's a fright
I'm hairy high and low
Don't ask me why
Don't know
It's not for lack of break
Like the Grateful Dead
Darling

Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Of my... Hair.

J. Allen Wilson © FIVE-FIVE - TWO THOUSAND & SEVEN