haircut

they say that hair holds memories

well, you cut all yours away

our friends crowded in your green tile bathroom,

taking turns snipping the strands,

letting them fall

letting me go

i was over the atlantic somewhere

when i stopped fitting in your hands,

and your heart, and your hair

we made eye contact at the carnival

you are so tan, and your eyes are so blue

the connection lasts a breath, yet i ache --

i hardly recognize you