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A booster seat rests on a swivel
chair’s arms
where a boy squirms. His father stands
next to a girlie-calendar tacked to the wall.
Elderly men witness this boy who shrinks
away from scissors. This boy who can see
pokerfaced strangers watching him tear-up.
In the mirror, red and white and blue diffracts
upwardly blurring hurried faces of pedestrians
and the longhaired girlie ogling out of body.
The floor stockpiles generations of hair.
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