Pierino, The Gay Blade

They called him Pierino, made no sense at all,
Jesus, the guy was 6 foot 4 inches tall
In metric, that’s 78 centimeters or such
but it wasn’t his height, it was his touch
He was second in command in a barber shop
in the Italian town where I’d stopped
for my first year at the University
Of course for my girl I wanted to look nifty
So after a few weeks my lover so blond
took me in hand in hand, arm in arm
insisting an Italian barber cut my hair
that’s exactly how I ended up in there

I liked Pierino, he was as gay as a Carnival Day
but I was too charmed by my Italian Miss
I never imagined we might kiss
As he would scissor, we would talk
of the city, the customs, places to walk
In the Gran Piazza there was an exhibition hall
where a “Mostra” of canaries was held in late fall
Pierino raised canaries and after that day
I met him at the show, listened as he'd say
He instructed on all the fine points, of feed,
supplements, water, vegetables they’d need
I bought a few, several finches too,
that danced around chirping to the disco sound
The canaries sang with such beauty
Like Pavarotti, Caruso, or Bocelli

Pierino had a way of washing the hair,
I’d never experienced anywhere
He’d rub and scrub with his finger nails
removing any dirt or scales
before he finished you felt so clean
you’d close your eyes and dream
of far away places, mountains and glaciers,
the old dog I’d left behind, even a hula dancer
better than LSD his magic stroke
If I fell asleep he’d wake me with a gentle poke
I didn’t realize the impression he’d made
like the first girl you kissed when you got laid

Time passes, later we realize we acted like asses
Youth brings haste and often waste
I asked my blond to come live with me
She said, “Why, aren't we in harmony?”
I was in a rush to experience life
and began to consider having a wife
or at least a woman by my side
and so into an abyss we slide
A hometown girl flew out in the bad weather
next thing I knew we were living together
We went everywhere she wanted to stop
Accompanied me to the barber shop
She watched Pierino wash my hair
and afterwards said, “No need to go there,”
She cut my hair from then on in
I guess she was cold jealous of him
Why? it made no sense that I could see
Maybe she thought he was in love with me
The way he washed and cut my hair
made her defensive and aware

Many years have passed,
I never saw Pierino again, alas
Except in my mind’s eye
He’s never aged, I don’t know why
But every time I shower and wash my hair
I time travel back to there
When I press my nails into my scalp
It’s winter time south of the Alps
I remember that distant December back when
Pierino washed my hair, but then
it’s never quite the same
Doing it to yourself is much too tame

I still have canaries that sing in the sun
reminding me of loves lost and won
My wife's built a wall to keep them all out
A wall so tall they’d have to shout
for the sound to travel such a great distance
I live in silence by her insistence
My friends are kept secret, my loves are kept distant
There should be enough room in a marriage for all
One’s friends and lovers but the room is too small
Sort of a dungeon without a key
You get so complaisant you forget to flee