Ann's Hair
When I was in school
They made me read
The Red Badge of Courage
A book about men and about war.
I hated it.
(I complained to the teacher
In an articulate, well-thought-out argument
About the content
But to no avail.)
The other day
My friend Ann
Showed up with red hair.
I had always, only known her
As a woman with flowing silver hair
A goddess of platinum tresses
A mermaid (according to her therapist)
Of metallic locks.
My friend Ann's
Boyfriend James
Told her
She had the coolest hair in Boulder
Until recently.
(James has no hair.)
I remember
The mask of bitterness and courage she wore
Her mouth turned down at the corners
When she repeated his sour words
Verbatim.
As I admired her new badge of courage
(She said she was fleeing matronhood)
I couldn't help but feel nostalgia
For those quicksilver strands
That river of argent.
And I stand before the mirror and bemoan
My own lackluster, enervated white hairs
That pale in comparison.