Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

Poems

Skeptical Commentary on Mr. Gică’s Love Poem

It is possible these were not precisely the words Mr. Gică was thinking. He is the world’s greatest barber, and he knows how anyone’s hair smells, at whatever distance, just by its shine. Mr. Gică never heard Sadoveanu recite “Hillside Eve,” and even if he had, years ago, in elementary school, by now he’s forgotten. He is the world’s greatest barber and does not have autumnal feelings except when he trims the herds of children who come before September 15 th . An alp-horn? A farmer with a scythe? No scythe. Just a razor and scissors. A locust tree? Just a neon sign and mirrors. A church bell? Just a comb knocking off the dandruff against the sink. Only love was once the same. Or maybe not. Only expectation would once have breathed the same. Mr. Gică is the world’s greatest barber. He wouldn’t have had any reason to have noticed, even once, a woman’s legs. And even if he did, it was years ago, before he went to trade school. And he’s forgotten.

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