6 Inch

The question that paced limply round my mind was would I still be able to defeat the might of an entire army with just the brittle jawbone of an ass (arse? does an Irish donkey go by arse?)  Would my ability to slay without the toss of my long biblical hair hold weight? A very valid question for someone who let the other girls play with her hair at school, who occasionally flung it in the face of women who needed a wake up call, who loved having it pulled while being fucked, yin and yang in perfect harmony, who could count on it to cover the tattoos when skillfully placed clothing failed...I refused the complimentary glass of wine, since I knew I'd be drinking whiskey within the hour, also apologizing profusely for such an offence as saying no to the vino.  I saw the long dark tree trunks of hair fall one after the next to the floor, half wet and half dry, just like me.  I haven't felt this way in awhile, like the first flutters of love, the intent lightness of lust, imbued in the shoulder bones, now slowly more and more exposed as I let loose with my past and let it braid its slipknot secrets down, with a swift tailwind.  Nothing but a wavy brown mound of interwoven, dead hair, swept up into a pile that looked like the cheap toupee of a wannabe gangster.  Pity - I didn't want them to take it away.  I kept a lock of the complete half a foot, two years worth, 6 inches of hair..."what are you, a Jew?"  Always the most inappropriate thing said becomes the thing I smile at the most; sceptre in ashes at my side.  Nice to dethrone yourself sometimes, tie yourself down, crumple the crown, and look forward to the night all the same.

~ M. Lucia