American fuzz

You spent too long in the land where hair is hair.

Here, where I am from (where is that?)

Hair goes to university, then settles reluctantly

On a social life.

It dries with cigarette smoke and Beckett,

Or any other namedrop, as long as it’s French.

Occasionally it builds itself up into a

A feminist bun, a platform, so to speak, up high.

It flirts. Cascading from mouth straight onto skin,

It doesn’t part along a neat cornrow, or frame anything.

It’s not committed,

And understands split ends.

 

5/10/2019