Beauty Bar

Five dollar cover for a bar full of glitter
The entirety of it emulating a salon

A fitting place for the overseeing models
in the fifties posters we look upon

Beauty parlor chairs line the wall
With their hair-drying domes tilted up

This vintage lounge with painted diagrams
Instructing the perfect roller curl and tuck

A manicurist at the ready, poised closest to the door
Gives entry to the bar before a colorful dance floor

A disco ball spins reflective, speckling light
Across faces, open spaces and the air of the night

Eclectic, upbeat music from the deejay’s hip-hop set
Moves limbs, shakes hips, and bounces steps

This crowd is unified in the differences they share
Where else could you see a train of dancers, where the caboose is a wheelchair?

A woman dancing with her hands up, exposing full-on armpit hair?
Two men kissing near the photo booth, sans a disapproving stare?

Love knows no boundary. It transcends gender and race
And that’s the obvious, yet unspoken message in this place

Though, this isn’t quite my thing, and I don’t always understand it
I know the world’s a painting with a very diverse palette

And despite the models and the murals, and the glitter on the wall
This crowd’s acceptance of each other is the most beautiful thing of all

And I see the underlying meaning in the name Beauty Bar

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