Remember the time
when we sat in the shower
and dreamed of buttermilk biscuits
and love?
I saw the aegean in your eyes
where i had not before
and quoted old poetry
in a silly mood.
Turning away,
you rolled your eyes
into a far off gaze,
burning holes in the
plastic curtain.
When the time came to wash my hair,
you grabbed a handful of shampoo and applied it
to your own head first,
wiping the remains on mine.
I often thought that you enjoyed
that part of me the most,
two extraordinary pieces of hair
on an otherwise ordinary head.












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