Buttery blonde hair
Her face too angular, nose too sharp
But he looks
And then he looks again
And again
I sit two seats behind him, seeing the world through
His coke-bottle lenses
I know he can't hear
That he uses his hands to talk to the world
And I am just as deaf as he is
Because I can't understand what he says
He can hardly see but he sees her
Drawn like a moth to her golden flicker
I wonder how many times he's going to
Turn his head and look at her
Wonder if he thinks she might
Disappear in a puff of pale
Yellow smoke
As I watch this barely disguised admiration
A tangle of copper walks down the aisle and
Sits in the seat in front of me
And I wonder who's
Watching me
I am so tempted to pull out my brush
And untangle that hair
It reaches the middle of her back
And is the same confusing color as mine
Dark roots but laced with
Fire that plays hide and seek with the sun
I imagine she gets asked the same questions I do
Is that your real color?
Hairdressers should know better
So I only see them once and then try another
Until I find one who doesn't ask
Only revels in the wave, the silk, the
Untamed nature that falls from my scalp
She hides it under a black baseball cap
And to most, she is as invisible as I am
Copper cannot compare to gold in the eyes of a man
Unless he knows true worth
True beauty
Truth.