Friday, June 22, 2012

Hair Poem


I used to be that girl-
free drinks from some guy at a bar
glances that lasted too long
nipples that could be seen through a light shirt on a hot night and looked good tucked in,
a skirt that showed off my legs.

Now there is belly fat
legs with bulging veins
and an expression on my face that can scare me on an accidental encounter with a mirror.
I am now a relic like so many things
in the garage or in the dresser of the mud room-something that meant
something at one time and now you just can't throw it away.
With a little help, my hair has highlights and lands just below my shoulders. It looks good.

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