No Haircut (poem 35)
I thought it would be best
to give my scissors a rest.
So I let my hair grow for twenty years
without cutting even one hair.
But now, I have some fears
that animals are living up there.
How else would you explain
the comings and goings of the crane?
Or the friendly litte chipmunk
carrying two pieces of luggage,
followed by the grinning skunk,
with his own bags of stowage?
Now there’s so much animal noise,
that I’m beginning to lose my poise.
I can’t even hear my own thoughts,
and my hair has a yucky skunky scent.
So either I cut all my hairs offs,
or I start charging these critters rent.