Cow Licks
You've heard of those, haven't you?
Those hanks of hair, standing straight up
toward heaven, as though
to guide you on your way?
Well, where we came from,
people talked about cow licks.
If you complained about your hair,
they would say, “You have a cow lick,”
as if that settled the matter.
What, a cow licked the top of my head
when I was on my way into the world?
Who invited a cow to that event?
I hate cows. I'm terrified of cows.
I run from cows.
You struggle, you gel, you brush,
you tease, you use super-hold hair spray.
Nothing, but nothing, works.
It's a curse, that's what it is.
For all of my life, wherever I am,
No matter what I'm doing, I will wear
that mark smack in the top of my head.
I don't know much about that new body
we're promised in heaven, but I've
already put in a request to St. Peter
for a smaller set of boobs. I think I'll
add a postscript, “And get rid of this
#*%@# dad-blamed cow lick!
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