The boy can\u2019t look at himself in the barber\u2019s
\nmirror, but there he is, and his face says
\nhe\u2019s all wrong. Oh for someone to say
\notherwise, but the barber won\u2019t and not
\nhis father. Mother loves him but what
\nthose two have together doesn\u2019t carry
\ninto the open air. The haircut\u2019s all right
\nbut it can\u2019t change anything. Even
\nthe barber\u2019s all right but his own kids
\nare more than he can handle.<\/p>\n
The boy grows through lots of haircuts.
\nJust when it feels okay to look at himself
\nhe sees that it\u2019s all a con, his face is his face
\nand so what? But a lingering smudge
\nin his soul says, not quite, try harder.
\nThe boy thinks, Oh for the hero\u2019s life,
\nslashing my way to glory\u2014or
\nthe devout\u2019s, on his knees, appealing
\nto the heart\u2019s desire that waits in heaven.<\/p>\n
The heart\u2019s desire. Lovers know it
\nfor a moment, the princess and the prince,
\nwhile they\u2019re fitting slippers.
\nThe birds don\u2019t have it but they don\u2019t care,
\nand the trees the same, who sigh their way
\nthrough springtime and summer, then shed
\nwhat they must\u2014no regrets.<\/p>\n
Later, the boy loved a girl and they got married.
\nAfter a while, scratched by the usual thorns,
\nthey forgot what love is, but late, though
\nthe fire was banked, they remembered
\nin one another\u2019s arms that love
\nis what we have. In the eyes\u2019 mirror
\nthey gave each other back, bedizened.<\/p>\n
\u2014Bert Stern H\u201962<\/p>\n