Long Hair

For 40 years it was all about looking as if I belonged
To a world of business of results and performance
On a stage, I had to perform, say the right things
Do the right things, make the best-right decision possible
Sometimes make lives miserable, just to allow a business survive
Recover from so many mistakes and persist and pretend I had answers… and convince, convince everyone… so,
I had to look the part, wear the right clothes and grooming
Then, suddenly I don’t
Then, there’s a pandemic
And so it goes
Long pants seem ridiculous and unneeded
And there are dozens of ties with nothing to do but gather dust
If I’m not wearing exercise shoes, who needs a pair of sox
Button down shirts are an anarchism
Haircuts don’t happen because they are dangerous
But I’ve come to remember the 70’s and long hair
And for the first time in decades the wind has something to move
But it never quite looks the same… and so
I’m told I look ridiculous… which, I have little doubt is true
Thus it’s time to find a new barber as the world has changed
And the barber on the corner is gone, sadly
And my hair continues to grow… a good thing I suppose
But by tomorrow, my long hair will be no more!

I’ve been a little too serious lately… so hopefully this is more fun!

One of my favorite poems was published in 1914 by Joyce Kilmer:

Trees
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

My comedic version:

Phone-Trees
I think that I should never hear
A poem lovely as, operator here.

A phone-tree hungry time consume
Against our lives it doeth presume;

A phone-tree that takes us all day
To find the right end we will pray;

The phone-tree may impatient wear
On thee, and cause radical loss of hair;

Upon our bosom a telephone is lain
As we wait on hold for something lame.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only Insurance companies
….. can make a damn phone-tree.

This week I learned that
Despite recording technology
Despite remote control at our fingertips
Despite the mute button so prevalent
Despite narrowed attention spans
Despite a paucity of curiosity
Despite the Super Bowl is two months away
Despite the proximity of the kitchen
Or maybe because of this proximity
People actually watch commercials
At least enough to get riled up
About a thin woman
…. on a $2,000 stationary bike!
Funny