A special thank you to Dave. Always appreciate the push to write.

Curls was written at lunchtime, the only time I’m not as busy as I usually am…sorry for the wait.

Lately, I’m confused
like curls when they flutter back to wavy
lost in twists,
lacking bounce and cling
they once held against the strongest
light breezes—
because, let’s be real—
the curls could never survive confusion
so enigmatic,
so sphinxlike
that you could consider me hair-straight
and constant anxious.

Sometimes, I wrap the curl confusions ’round my finger,
circling them into pretend curls too tight
for realistic integrity.

Upon release,
the curls fall back into their original position,
wisps of hair unclung,
until they drop heavy and tangle.

The hair,
the confusion—
full of knots too difficult
to brush away.

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