putting on a show

I will
shave my head
again
someday.
I miss running my fingers
through the fuzz,
and the cold
on my brain.
right now
I tame the mop
attempt to control the flip,
putting on a show
for the ones that care.
putting on a show
for my femininity
cause it's still
looking for definition
and expression.
they tell me
a shaved head
can't be feminine
therefore,
masculine
and still wrong.
they want me to choose
be all girl
or all boy
sit there and think about what you've done
and I have
all these days
growing my short hair
to long
back to short
but acceptable,
thinking
I'm wrong
ugly
confused
crazy,
so that when I look at my reflection
I look past the shape
and see
nothing. 
mouth open
face contorted
eyes angry
the expression of a scream
lacking sound.
I've been waiting
to break free
of these restraints,
these definitions
and their dangling shackles. 
but I've been walking up to the definition,
trendy shag atop my head,
and asking to be constrained.
when there is no response
I wrap my wrists in iron,
therefore
unable 
to touch my fingers to my head. 

September 6, 2005