John W. McEwers
Hair Die - Poem by John W. McEwers
She had fake blue hair
the kind God can't give you when you're born
the kind only a human can give you with chemicals
when you're in your teens and want to be cooler or more different than the rest
But I liked her.
And she wouldn't give me her number
because my hair and eyes weren't exotic at all.
They were, and are, brown.
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