i am balding

made fun of my dad my whole life for his bald head
and now karma’s come with a lawnmower
laughing all the way to the madhouse
the hairs that sneak by strangely follow karma
running in fear from my forehead
this is the way each square day on a calendar
is a texas funeral box for me
this is the way the world wilts before you
the slow death of petrified wood at the hands of nazi bugs
don’t get me wrong
this isn’t ‘woe is me’; this is just ‘everything fades’
the fish steal the ocean back from us
katrina drowns jazz in the sound of apathy
tides slide back to the ocean
they slither away like scared snakes

i am balding

and the news reports say loud men are still looking for peace in the barrel of guns
god can fight his own wars
and usually passes his fist
2012 ticks by like a mayan time bomb
if i look at the calendar, watch-the-clock
it’ll be december now
as more hairs freefall disattached from my skull
nature mimics machinery
we play minesweeper and call of duty to relax
modern warfare is our escape to a classic idea of peace
cameras zoom
guns fire themselves biting the hand that feeds them bullets

i am balding

my mother brushed my hair like she was trying to kill it
and in a weird way it’s clear she succeeded
i’m not the type to rub lab-tested chemicals on my head
like the new version of those old sideshow miracle elixirs
that we all know were just piss and ‘here’s hoping’
we eat that shit up like little debbie snacks
the lights are just brighter now
the signs are bigger
the gods are charming cereal box creatures
balloon animals and one thousand identical
anti-fear insurance companies
the commercials fade to black
nothing lasts forever except human stupidity
(and the notebook died laughing at me)



Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

13 thoughts on “ROGAINE”

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