it's not that i have photogenic choice,
not that i'm exactly handsome -
but perhaps... i have a patience...
this is the second time cemil
took photos of me:
before and after...
       what a strange compliment...
unlike lucian freud
****...
                unruly hair on
the cranium and on the face...
       ah... barber... my artist...
     and the barber is just one tier
of artistry,
   and i think he found his muse...
   ****-eroticism...
   perhaps...
but i suppose he finds its comforting
that i don't really to keep
my eyes open while he ushers
in his brushstrokes with
a pair of scissors, a straight razor...
   and the clippers...
         1st time: before & after...
"luck"... 2nd time?
      he knows i was working on
a canvas...
   roughing myself up...
         so he could peacock his talents...
   no... what, with this drunk's
bloated face, riddled with subtle
dermatological issues of close-up acne...
**** the painters and the nudes...
i'm all for the patronage
of Turkish barbers...
    the 2nd time i became a barber's model...
did i ask for any money?
no... i was asking for the metaphor
akin to a bear's paw trapped in
a bear-trap snap bite...
    a sharp haircut and a trimmed beard...
i could understand the presence
of the Turks in Europe,
beside the kebab shops -
infesting these lands with the Ottoman
barbers...
      unless of course i walked into
a kebab shop,
   and they were mingling pickled
chillies with sauerkraut
         rather than raw red cabbage...
some might call it an "on purpose"
behavior, outlasting a decency of
        aesthetic attire of hair...
   but then...
      i was working on a canvas for him...
and he was just itchy fingers
ready to take a before & after photograph
of his work...
     cemil ustun... of the collier row
roundabout barber shop...
mind you...
                Poland already imports Turkish
drama for the retiree women...
     sure.... tele-novellas...
   but i sat with my grandmother and watched
a few episodes of
   cesur ve güzel,
            starring tuba büyüküstün...
   i always thought would be
         the only reliable buffer zone...
never mind the kebab shops...
       without Turkish barbers i'd be served
by some English queer with no sensibility
of practicality of a haircut
                       or a beard trim...
          well... i come back in half a year
looking like another wildman of Essex...
and i hope...
                 he'll be satisfied with the already
two modelling sessions
of the before & after...
    and who said...
that you had to sit ****,
   before an artists?
               just grow a canvas of hair...
    close your eyes...
  sit through 20 minutes that extends into
an hour's worth of the best ***...
    and then see the result...
     i came in with hair like rags
of a hobo... i came out with hair like
a monocle donning, tux wearing
    new yorker capitalist,
    with a Broadway date, 5 hours shy
from engaging with.