Hair

Locks are pretty,
Long layers in a dream,
Dazed,
Dazed by the possibilities which I am too lazy to pursue,

The story plays:
Once upon a time in a kingdom far away,
Walked a princess,
Locks of beautiful bronze,
Hand in hand,
With a man of grace.

I walk.
Outstretch my hand to a ghost,
And we walk along
In days that become dusk

We linger in this limbo,
Here,
But not really.

Locks are pretty,
Like a paper bag prom dress.
Pretty, if we pretend.
Pretty, if we squint our eyes.

Half blind,
Half blind.

But don’t you see,
The paper bag’s generosity?
But don’t you see,
How good is she,
Too busy to brush
Too frugal to eat.

Locks are pretty,
Split,
Locks are pretty
Growing
Lock are pretty
When I say,
“I love me dear despite,
Pretty locks you are mine.”