stars in the trees3
By Barbara Eknoian

Under the hairdryer,
without my bifocals on,
I gaze across the beauty salon.
I see beautiful shades
of sparkling sherry,
shimmering blond,
and amber brown
framing blurred faces.

Everyone is lovely.
Everyone is equal.
There is no discrimination.
I have an inkling
of what heaven must be like.
I linger under the hairdryer
twenty minutes longer
tentatively
holding back reality.

Previously published in, Jerkumstances – Pearl
and in Why I Miss New Jersey

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