Four Poems

A Poem for Roseanne

Roseanne who cuts my hair
every six weeks and asks
How's your hair been?
as if hair was my life

belongs to a rowing club
goes rowing in an eight
all pretty girls with hair
in the latest cuts and shades.

While Roseanne cuts my hair
I imagine her on a lake
in the middle of a rowing eight
keeping a perfect stroke.

The starter lies down on the dock
and holds the prow in place
the cox is so encased
she could be a coffined dwarf.
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