Michael E. Harris Poet Free verse

Out of Control Hair

IT'S THAT TIME.
TIME TO CUT MY HAIR.
IT'S OUT OF CONTROL
AND EV-VER-REE WHERE.

IT'S IN MY FACE.
IRRITATING MY EYES.
SCRATCHING MY EARS
AND MAKING ME CRY.

I CAN'T SEE WHERE IM GOING.
I CAN NO LONGER HEAR.
I'M SHROUDED WITH STRANDS
AND LIVING IN FEAR.

IT'S STUCK TO THE CARPET.
IT'S CLOGGING THE DRAIN.
IT'S DRIVING ME MAD
AND I'M NEARLY INSANE.

WHEN I WATER IT DOWN.
IT GROWS EVEN FASTER.
I HAVE TO DECLARE
MY HAIR A DISASTER.

AND WHEN THE WIND BLOWS...
MY HAIR RESEMBLES A FIRE.
PUTTING MY FUTURE
IN THAT MUCH MORE DIRE.

I TRIED TO USE GEL.
IT CURLED AND WENT CRAZY.
THAT'S WHEN I STARTED TO PANIC
AND STOPPED BEING LAZY.

I WENT TO THE BARBER.
THEY LOCK THE FRONT DOOR.
I ASSUMED THEY HAD PLENTY 
AND DIDN'T NEED ANYMORE.

I MADE AN APPOINTMENT
TO MEET THE HAIR MASTERS.
THE FIRST THING THEY SAID.
YOUR REP'S ARE DISASTERS.

THEY ASKED ME A QUESTION.
WAS MY HAIR EVER STYLED.
I REPLIED, AS YOU CAN SEE.
IT'S BEEN A WHILE.

FIFTEEN ROUNDS LATER
I EMERGED WITH A SMILE.
I PUT THE HAIR MASTERS NUMBER
ON MY SPEED DIAL.

THE MORAL OF THIS POEM.
STOP OBSTRUCTING YOUR VISION.
DON'T ALLOW BIG  GOVERNMENT
TO CONTROL YOUR EVERY DECISION.

Michael E. Harris
01232022

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