What color is your hair?
You should dye it again.
Why did you do that?
I liked it better brown.

When I was little, I wanted to be lots of things.
A construction worker, an actress, an epidemiologist, a mermaid, an artist, but always—
Brave.
I made up my mind: whatever I did, I would do it fearlessly.
I remember, age nine, Idabel Oklahoma: the first time I saw that blue bottle of infinite possibilities.
I went in through the beauty store door and I left through a window.
Someday, I thought,
Maybe I’ll be brave.
Someday, I thought,
Maybe one woody streak of my boyish bob would become a declaration of just how few ***** I give about my reflection in the mirror like eyes of the entire universe.
Someday…

I went to a private religious school from a few months old until my graduation at age 18 in May of 2012.
“Unnatural” hair colors were strictly forbidden.
My blue fantasies remained the pearl hidden inside me
Throughout losing friends,
Throughout losing love,
Throughout losing self-control, self-respect, and finally selfishness.
I was liberated in June.

My hair is blue
For all the things I wanted to do, but never could.
My hair is blue
For the little girl who always told her self she’d do it and who finally followed through.
My hair is blue
Because my soul is blue. Not sad, no, but infinite and oceanic, divergent, powerful, indecisive and moody.
My hair is blue
Because I am finally okay with the blue inside of me, and it’s high time I looked more like the person I actually am.
My hair is blue
For me.
I exercised my powerful position as an individual, as sole sovereign over my place in the universe. I am my identity, I have the power to change your perception, the power to shift social circles, the power to do anything but remain the same.
My hair is blue
For the hearts of every single child who’s eyes have lit up at the sight of it. For the kids who maybe for the first time have realized that hair the same shade as their favorite candy-color is even a possibility; that they too are allowed to challenge the ordinary, that there is no “normal” way to be or look, and that the same window I once crawled out of is still open and beckoning.
I
Dyed
My
Hair
Blue
Because I CAN, and because you CAN, and because they CAN, and because we CAN, and because not enough people DO.

"They" say the sense of smell is closely linked with memory
I never know how else to say where I get that--
Does Eva Green playing an epidemiologist in "Perfect Sense" count?
Probably not, but there is confirmation
in the smell of coffee each morning
My dad made coffee in an old drip-brew;
My mom makes coffee in a French press
I assume my dad still uses a drip brew--
it's the one he used the last time I visited him
That smell brings back family memories, when
everything seemed good
everything seemed whole
the pieces all fit, and there were no cracks
even though I know now it was just a facade
and couldn't last, and it leaves an ugly aftertaste
Like bitter coffee from an old drip-brew

The president stood before the mic
And told the public not to fear--
That things were not so bad--but didn't
Say that he was insincere.

He let them think that oh, we have
COVID-19 under control,
As he tried to convince the public
To follow him down the rabbit hole.

He found a doctor who was not
An epidemiologist
To spread his propaganda, and he
Allowed the experts to be dismissed.

He thoughtlessly invited his fans
To rallies where masks were not required
And thought his obstinacy and his
Insouciance made him highly admired.

He scorned those who wore their masks
And knew the virus was a threat,
And when journalists pressed him about
The issue, he'd become upset.

Thinking he knew so much more
Than all of the experts, he made sure
That CDC recommendations
Would soften and remain obscure.

All of a sudden, what do we learn?
The president is hospitalized
For having contracted COVID-19.
Is anybody at all surprised?

The lesson here: denial does not
Make problems disappear on their own.
Always consider consequences,
For we will reap what we have sown.

Negligence as a strategy
Slowly but surely gives danger a boost
When our actions catch up with us--
When the chickens come home to roost.

-by Bob B (10-4-20)