Hair

Seats are being emptied, one by one.
The drama-fans file to the exits like giddy lovers.
I stay in my seat

to stare at the blank stage.
The wide plank of wood—
brings together awkward bodies

obliged to peel, darkening scabs
healing.
I turn around and there he sits

beside a girl with short hair.
Hair.
I feel my own, pressing my chest

like sharp needles.
It has grown too long.
I want to cut it.