In The Summertime

…

In the early seventies,
I had a semi-Afro hairstyle,
and a shaggy beard.

I thought
I looked like
the lead singer
in Mungo Jerry,
but aspired to be
Che Guevara.

These days,
the beard is trimmed
and a semi-Afro hairstyle
would look silly
with the Kalahari desert
running from north to south.

At the unisex hairdresser,
a young lady
with a lisp,
nose ring
and jasmine fragrance
asks me if I want a number one.

I tell her to aim for two point seven five.

She chuckles
and says I remind her
of her grandfather.

Even though
it’s summertime,
she’s never heard
of Mungo Jerry

and she thinks
Che Guevara
is a Spanish
chipolata.