Hair Cutting Saloon Poem by Nikhil Parekh

Thick mirrors of transparent glass,
slates of graphite stuck to wall,
big bottles of shaving foam,
flammable containers of liquid spray,
a tetra assembly of royal chairs,
with protruding headrests of cushioned rexin,
fluorescent light rods producing blue light,
arrays of scissors made of stainless steel,
razor switch blades in plastic shells,
brown hairbrush with artificial teeth,
polygonal cans of medicated shampoo,
soft white towels dipped in hot steam,
aromatic hair oil in copper tins,
giant clock hung to wall nail,
electronic hair drier suspended from a jugglery of wires,
wooden boxes of talcum powder,
tantalizing odour of body cologne,
huge paint brush coated with black dye,
rectangular green tablets of antiseptic soap,
flocks of silky hair lying dead on the floor,
offering a wide range of services like,
haircut, massage, facial, bleach,
special shave and shampoo bath,
with an iron safe for stacking currency notes,
and a large tumbler of cool water,
shaping hairy demons to presentable gods,
as i stretch my legs,
in the crowded ambience of the hair cutting saloon.