My haircut wasn’t going well.
I looked like how seashells
feel when they are first sewn
to the shore. The person
cutting my hair explained
that this was part of the process.
Her heart was a pink lemon.
I knew she was right, that
somewhere there was a place
where the sun was a spider
in the corner and nobody
bothered it. They would look
at it and say, Good spider.
And the sun would look back
and say Good spider to you.
