GETTING A HAIRCUT
I love you so much I would let you cut my hair
right after the only other girl working in the salon
throws her blow dryer and flat iron into a grocery bag
and tells you to go to hell because she quits,
even though my hair is already too short
and I’ve been thinking about growing it longer.
When you get mad you like to tear sheets of paper
in half because you think punching pillows is too violent
and it makes a person prone to unintentionally punching
a spouse or a dog or some other non-pillow
the next time they are angry and pillowless.
One time you took a flat of peaches back to the store
because six of them were badly bruised
and when the grocer refused to give you back
your five dollars you held the receipt up in front of him
and tore it down the middle; when we got home
you said you didn’t feel like being upset anymore.
That’s why I trust you with scissors, even though
I only came in here to drop off the frozen lunch
you left at home this morning but now I’m getting
a haircut as well so you can talk it out, and I don’t
even care that you forgot to put that soft ribbon
of tissue paper between the cape and my neck.