Her mewing awakens him.
He reaches over, pets Baby
who sleeps at the foot of the bed,
calculates that she is as old as he
in cat years which he finds remarkable,
dresses in layers, puts a second cap
over the first and leaves for work,
grateful his bony fingers
are still nimble enough to cut hair.
It's not so much the cutting
he enjoys but the time
when he can contemplate
the pigeon on the sidewalk.
The barber does not know today
his scissors will fall
from his hands.
her face at the window
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