Cell Phone Poetry

A while back a student was telling me that she is completely creeped out by the guy that sits next to her in another class. She said she wears her hair down and uses it to form a partition between the two of them.

My 36th b-day party.

I vowed to spend all future birthdays wearing a Mylie Cyrus wig.

Later that night I was thinking about it and typed this out on my cell phone:

I wear my hair down

A veiled attempt at isolation

Mousey brown invisibility

A child’s game.

I can’t see you.

You can’t see me.

You. Can’t see. Me.

Slouching into chairs

And hunches over stares

And punches under wraps

Twisted knots

Tangled locks

Thoughts arched

Scorched ends

Lacquered layers laid lowly

Down on table tops

Stops conversation

Disinviting flirtation

Wrecking chances for knowing

No flipping no tossing no twirling

Shafted residue of severe conditions

Storm damaged

Wrecked and ravaged

Dead end signs

From the girl in the chair to your right