I don’t think I can be a blonde anymore.
Don’t get me wrong,
it's been a blast.
I f I open my eyes wide
And pump a little more blood into my lips.
I’m almost guaranteed to get whatever I
Could ask for from
the boys sitting around the bar.
From complete strangers at gas stations and shopping malls.
Some sort of
instinctive genetic code predisposing
Ordinarily
cynical, selfish people to help the
little angel
With
bewilderment and helplessness in her eyes.
It’s been swell, but the swelling’s gone down.
Homeless men asking for
quarters, then kisses
Construction worker catcalls of
Hey-
Snow White!
A guy I barely know putting
slimy hands on me-without invitation!
As if the
platinum-white-silver-gold makes it all okay.
And
the second commandment of my social circle
Has been changed just for me
In recent months,
To
Thou Shalt Not Fuck With the Blonde
Cuz
the kitty cat’s got claws and
She’ll rip your throat out if you try anything
Not to mention that all my
big brother types
Would
back-alley anyone who overstepped their bounds
Despite the fact that
I’m more than capable of doing it myself.
But they flock around me, where I perch on my stool
Holding court with smiles and favor
My hair
burnished and shining like a flame
And they’re the moths drawn to it in the dark.
But I don’t think that I want to be
that girl anymore
She’s served her purpose.
And it was fun being her for awhile.
But,
y’see, I’m starting to notice myself doing things.
I think the
bleach is getting into my brain
Seeping through my scalp a little bit more with each
touch-up.
Peroxide dissolving my defenses
Leaving my
cerebrum laid bare to the elements.
Make me do things that I know I’m too smart for.
Giving a boy who treats me badly
Way too many
one more chances.
And filling up the gas tank before realizing that my wallet
Is sitting on my dresser, 50 miles away.
And I’ve begun to affect an
empty-headed giggle that flows
Too naturally for comfort
And pretty soon my
bust size will outpace my
IQ.
So it’s time to
reincarnate.
Maybe a
redhead who
won’t take any crap from anybody.
Or a
brunette ice queen to be cold, distant, impossibly untouchable.
Perhaps blue or purple
punk rocker to shock and subvert.
But I know that I can’t be the blonde anymore.
It’s time to be someone else.