Loreal mango smoothie detangling spray
stick stick stuck to my medicine cabinet.
A shiny orange body and a snip snap nose cap,
the source of my purified tears.

Those knots were my friends,
eaten by the soft sweet smelling monster
one day gluing itself to a splintered bed of white shut doors,
because I grew into that knot.

No spray, more twists, my first decision
and untangling ones opinion leads to syrupy messes,
and twice as many belief coiled snags.

The older eyes have not wrinkled,
for Aussie’s knot forgotten shields them with a coat of chemicals and lies.
Positions placed in the frizzy weaved mess of religion, politics, and our differing
definition of rebellion.

Someday cringing at the pull of the brush shaped media,
I will let scalp tingling pain push me
to the corner of the medicine cabinet curdled,
with old escaped Suave spray spilling, as if its reaching for those tangles,
reaching for the problems.
Until light beams hit my lungs with the realization;
I always wanted the knots to grow into conflict filled conjectures.