Today I feel weightless,
a new invention,
my freshly-bobbed tresses
tickling for attention.
Every reflective surface
affords an angle for admiration.
I am pleased at what I see.

You take me in with a greedy sweep of your eyes,
brusk, but with something akin to tenderness.
The soft kohl of your irises needy and pleading,
Why not me?
Why not me?

I am sure you will someday regret
this game of emotional roulette.
You must be taught indifference.
And I must be left.

04/21/2008

Author's Note: After having 11 inches of hair cut for Locks of Love, my latest suitor's eyes follow me incessantly. I am not annoyed, but I am also far from relishing the attention. There is a complexity in the unsaid in this last stanza that I find fascinating. It has the charm of icebergs - so seemingly solid, but crumbling; so seemingly innocuous on the surface, but massive below the water line.

Posted on 04/22/2008
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