HAIR
HAIR
I’ve allowed someone to give me a hair wrap,
A harmless roll of colored strings
Wrapped along a few strands of hair
hidden in the back.
At the end I’ve hung a bead,
Given to me by a fortune teller for good luck.
The whole thing, I felt, was harmless
Just as painting one finger nail, or wearing a funny pair of shoe laces.
But after just a week I can assure you it is not.
For some reason
the sight of this thing makes people very angry.
Almost unable to have a conversation with me
Or even look me in the eye.
As if I am no longer the person they thought I was
But someone else completely
And not to be trusted.
Halfway though a simple discussion
They stop, and suddenly reach out a hand toward it and ask
“Wait, what is that?”
“It’s a hair wrap. With a magic bead at the end. It was given to me by a fortune teller.”
I will answer.
And a sad, puzzled look will come over them
As if in the past they were raped by someone with a hair wrap
Or a hair wrap killed their parents.