Fare thee well, hair stylist in the second story window

The snow on Franklin Ave. had
us all stop and go and I glanced up
to the picture window
where you stood with your back arched and your hands
hair-woven I said farewell
as I trained my eyes back to the tail lights
22nd street stoplight softened with snow
like feathery '80s hair, big like that

big like this: every moment styled
with the gel of too-thick sensibility has a hold--"I'd
stop the world and"--that won't quit
until it's just--"melt with you"--
cut so too let your scissor
sing a farewell to the falling locks

I feel the cold
on my new head of hair
and I feel the air the air the air.