First, the self. Then, the observing self. br The self that acts and the self that watches. This br The starting point, the place where the mind begins, br Whether the mind of an individual or br The mind of a species. When I was a boy br I struggled to understand. For if I know br The self that watches, another watching self br Must see the watcher, then another watching that, br Another and another, and where does it end? br So my mother sent me to the barber shop, br My first time, to get my hair "cut for a part" br (Instead of the dutch boy she'd always given me), br As I was instructed to tell the barber. She br Dispatched me on my own because the shop, br Which had a pool table in the back, in that br Small town was the men's club, and no woman br Would venture there. Was it my first excursion br On my own into the world? Perhaps. I sat br In the big chair. The wall behind me held br A huge mirror, and so did the one in front, br So that I saw my own small strange blond head br With its oriental eyes and turned up nose repeated br In ever diminishing images, one behind br Another behind another, and I tried br To peer farther and farther into the succession br To see the farthest one, diminutive in br The shadows. I could not. I sat rigid br And said no word. The fat barber snipped br My hair and blew his brusque breath on my nape br And finally whisked away his sheet, and I br climbed down. I ran from that cave of mirrors br A mile and a half to home, to my own room br Up under the eaves, which was another cave. br It had no mirrors. I no longer needed mirrors.