October is a weird month for a haircut, a weird month to dye your now-stubble-hair, half-pink
half-black, likely an ode to childhood vampires, the month of monsters mashing and smashing,
after, I wore a hood to my classes for days, ex-boyfriend’s mom hugged me, she heard the news,
my ex was always a momma’s boy, I shrunk under her touch, how can affection cure affliction
like a haircut and a changed name, all my own doing yet still I found shame, another monster
of October, red blood under cloth in the bathroom trash, mom couldn’t hide it like I could,
maybe she never tried, saw knife on flesh at home more than at the movies, broken glass under
step, baby pictures on the ground, screams from down the hall “I don’t even know who you are,”
like you tried, tried, tried, tried, all you ever have to do, no do only try, or Yoda’s best quote,
never seen Star Wars, dad liked Trek, mom had a Yoda with a Christmas hat, is Yoda a Christian?
Did Jesus reach that galaxy far far away? No way, Yoda doesn’t celebrate, just another shameless cashgrab,
damn your Christian Yoda! I broke it one Christmas, mad, I still feel bad, bad, stood so so still, said
“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” in the mirror after it happened, suppose December is
a shame monster too, smoked cigarettes indoors to give each other cancer, cut hair again in spite.