Quarantine Hair

When I was young I longed to have long hair:
like princesses and Barbie dolls at first;
then schoolmates blonde and lanky everywhere;
then middle-parted hippies. I was cursed
with natural curls, a tendency to frizz,
the color almost-black (I didn’t know
how bad a hundred strokes of brushing is,
as strategy to make my hair-type grow).

So after college, when attacked by lice
(I never should have borrowed Liz’s brush),
I had my hair cut short, and it was nice
(my love for length was like a schoolgirl crush).
But now my hair is gray, six months uncut,
and mostly I’m enjoying it, somewhat.

This entry was posted in Aging, Coronaverse, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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