Wednesday, May 11, 2005
A Lion in the Hairdressing Salon.
One-thirty five am.
A lion in the hairdressing salon.
I'm walking home, but stop! There's a lion in the window of a hairdressing salon on Brunswick St, Fitzroy.
He looks like he's been there a long time.
But no less ferocious. No less proud.
At the bar, that dress looked like nice.
I should have told her.
I should have told her that hairdressers will do anything to attract a passing potential client, including placing a life sized concrete lion in the window.
But I didn't know that then. Like I know things now.
Little things like lions.
Big things like lions.
Love likes lions.
What are you doing here in the window?
How are you related to hairdressing?
I'll take your picture.
So at least you feel some purpose tonight.
You look like you've been waiting for your picture to be taken for hundreds of years.
Do the clients even notice you?
You look like you've been through some battles.
Yeah, that means you look great.
She looked great in that dress tonight.
No, she's not here now.
I know a couple who kiss every time they see a lion.
Yeah, every time!
No, they're not here tonight. They're a long way from here.
But it seems kind of cute. To do that. To do that anywhere.
No, I don't know if they've seen the Lion King.
I think they would have to watch it alone.
I know a girl who is obsessed by the Lion King though.
She knows all the songs by heart. And sings them in shower.
And she would melt your concrete heart my friend.
Like she melted my mine.
But she's a long way from here too.