Poem: Reflections on the Man Two Rows Up

Reflections on the Man Two Rows Up

I bet you thought
your hair
was pretty close
to black—
that dying it
would be
a subtle change—
but now
you know your hair
is not
even that close
to black.
It looks like cops
took a
fingerprint of
your head,
like you wash your
hair with
motor oil.
It is
not a good look
for you.
Next time you dye
your hair
do you think you’ll
go with
a shade of brown?
Or are
you locked into
black now?

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