The four of us would pile into the car,
with kicks and shoves to get a window seat.
(No Joyo Theater and Hershey bar
if we continued with the hands and feet.)
Mom, pulling money from her purse would say,
For haircuts. Buy yourselves a soda pop,
then get back over to the IGA."
We barreled into Smitty's Barbershop
and in succession occupied the chair,
while old men gummed cigars and chewed the fat.
Though we were apt to squirm we didn't dare
for fear the hand that clipped would stop, and that
a voice behind would hiss "Now listen here,
you move like that again I'll have your ear."