at midnight
my hair had been a tangled mess
pulled back in a bun
at one a.m.
it had been a wave atop my head
greasy but beautifully dramatic
at two a.m.
it had been a nuisance, oil at the roots
but i said i looked too pretty to take a shower
(that’s such a funny and sad reason)
at three a.m.
i got the idea to cut it
i said, “i need a change, talk me out of it”
and you tried; thank you for that
but even so
at four a.m.
i cut my hair
and i didn’t feel any different.
i cut my hair to feel something and i just feel the same. it’s like that, sometimes. at least it looks okay. no complaints.