It is midnight and I am getting a haircut on the lawn.
I am tired, but I shiver with excitement.
Gentle hands tug and snip at my curls,
And as they fall they take root in the grass.
I will never remember this happening to me,
Save for lonely forgotten dreams and
The strange feelings of Deja Vu that I feel
Any time I go to the barber shop.
I am out at night because I can’t stand myself.
People are milling on the street. Nobody looks at me. They all look at each other as they pass, and the lights decorate their faces to be tall and luminous.
William doesn’t talk to us anymore.
He left us in the closet when he moved out of the house.
Time tears at our gentle fabric skin.
William won’t let us go in his head.
When I was little I had a big pack of friends. The big kids did once too, and they romped along the streets of our town.
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