Don't Cut It Out - Love It Out

i'm sitting in the barber's chair getting my hair cut.  outside the window i see him, the last man to threaten my life.  he did it on a few occasions but never scared my.  instead i felt sorry for him, such a small way to live.  fearful.

"go ahead shot me."  i recall the words leaving my lips.  an AR15 pointed at the back of my head.  i didn't need to turn around, i knew he wouldn't pull the trigger.  i believe he's smarter than that; not much but smart enough to know spilling my brains all over his kitchen in front of his wife and daughters would be a mess he couldn't easily cleanup.  violence solves nothing.

i've always joked that conflict between men is always about a girl, sadly so true.  in this case it was about his daughter.  his last words to me were if i ever spoke to her again he'd hurt me in ways that would likely put him in jail.  unblemished, i enjoy the feel of a straight razor against my skin, a clean shave.  he, the threatener is unjailed walking the street just outside the window.  i see him, he acts like i doesn't see me but we did, see each other for an awkward moment.  i wonder if his heart skipped a beat, if his blood began to boil, if he regrets his words, if he even knows his daughter spoke to me two day back.

he's not going to kill me, much less even touch me.  yet i'm left feels sadness.  raised by fear, anger and threats i can't help but feel for his daughter's inability to find and hold onto love.   touched by love, i care for his daughter, i hope she finds what she wants in life.  we both know it aint me.

returning to his truck with a burger to go, he passes the window once more avoiding a glance in my direction.  this cut coming to an end the barber asks, "so how does it feel?"  running my fingers threw my hair i reply, "love it"