April 1, 2011

Bad hair day gone good. Always, always the expected surprise without thinking of combs and mirrors. No care at all for people’s second glances. Flurry dances, on my head in your face at the tip of today’s boredom. Ah, this beautiful bedlam! Mark it, check it, you’re different, deterrent to this world’s detergent for fools.

(She loves my hair this way and I love it that she loves it that way. More importantly, I love my hair this way the way I love her and her ways of loving me more than my hair.)


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