New Look

after the treatment, some of it broke off

the remaining parts remained brassy in a sassy way

for a while, my anger had been feeding

on my craving for attention

the only thing left to do was bleach my hair

I had handed my body over twice the night before

the first smelled bad and wanted instructions

the second said smart things, then wet my bed

fast asleep, swimming in his own urine

he jumped up in dawn

I made scrambled eggs for him later that day

sun had risen under thickened clouds

I left with his sheets, back home,

or what I used to call it at the time,

my mattress was still soaked

 

I went to the mall and there it was:

My dignity converted into peroxide

in a box of carton called New Look.

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