Back Porch Haircuts

I let you cut my hair. Whether you were doing well Or about to make a fool Of your only daughter Completely irrelevant As I focused on your Darting nervous eyes The wrinkles in the corners Tightening with ever pass Of those clunky barber scissors. I realized you had no idea What you were doing, But I couldn’t bring myself To pull away from hands That grasp frantically at love Like it would vanish if I so much As peered over my shoulder At the piles of hair collecting Between our feet.