The Salon

By
Off the grey pavement
And into the cold
Through the glass door
And up to the tall white desk

A long red talon punches in long numbers
A curly blonde bush tells you to wait
Plop! Onto white leather
Staring at the white drapes covering the cavernous roof

A pair of red shiny pumps
Reflecting back from the floor
A long brunette waterfall tells you,
"Come along, you're up next."

Standing, feeling small but important
In the long tall hall
Clickety-clack, down the shiny silver floor
The waterfall indicates to sit.

Down into the shiny, silver-and-black chair
Twirled around to face the mirror
The brunette takes out long sterile blades
And proceeds to lop off lengths of copper

She blows dry the droplets
Left by the glass bottle
Toussles up the copper
And asks, "How do you like it?"

The copper dazzles within all the silver
Surrounded by chrome and glass.
The copper bounces and twirls.
"Beautiful. Thanks."

Clickety-clack, back to the big white desk
Where a long pretty hand slaps down an Alexander Hamilton.
The shiny red shoes clack back onto the grey pavement
Followed by a bouncy head of new copper curls





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