Day 2 of 30 - $4

Down here, the same brand name is tattooed
on the razor curving
my sideburns into place,

finding my jawbone
beneath the rough undergrowth
framing my face.

I leave the shop smelling the same,
like I’m ready to look good
and fuck up bad on Saturday night.

all this for a good eleven dollars
less than the clippers that tag me pretty
back home,

and I can hold a cold, domestically-brewed Balboa
while I wait my turn,

and the women smile back when I’m on the street
outside of the shop in Rio Abajo,

in front of the “Trust in God” (in English) graffiti
burned into the lightpost,

where you’ll feel so much more in a Panamanian breeze
than you would in an American one.

I won’t be this changed
a beer, four bucks, and a fade later
ever again.