To a Haircut

Metal on metal

On hair

And suddenly a year of my life

Is lying on the counter.

My head is lighter:

Shorn or free?

Discarded locks hold the key,

Perhaps.

But they are wet and limp and silent

And their companion-ends

Too raw for an opinion.

I’ll sleep on it,

And see what I think tomorrow. 🙂 

Copyright 2015 Andrea Lundgren

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