Have you ever been waiting in line behind a guy
You think has a toupee on his head?
And while waiting for a really long time in that line
That doesn’t seem to be moving forward,
You wonder what he looked like with his real hair
It must have been darker, the shade that
Still lingers above his ears, not having abandoned him
Would you start to imagine him adjusting it carefully
Thinking it made him look younger, better
Than if he was partially bald, or shaved it off completely?
Does he take it off, setting it on his nightstand
Or keep it on in case his wife comes to bed feeling amorous?
Does he fret over every windy weather report
Knowing he will have to hold onto it like others do a hat?
It keeps my mind busy, this staring at his artificial hair
And I find myself as you probably would too
Feeling compassion for this total stranger and his whys
That compelled him to cover up what changed
Sometimes so much more than simple recessive genetics
Leading all of us to fix what shouldn’t need to be
It is then, I slowly reach up and touch it lightly with love