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BAD HAIR DAYS
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Wind howls in pain
as the doors swing
I'm caught in
tunnels of
aerodynamic slings
Hair in rods
devoid of style
I meet the man
of my dreams
as he passes through
a rye smile
he exchanged
He too now
in the wind tunnel
experiment
a knowing look
passes through us
we've something in
common at last-
porcupie style
passing for
"hello"
as the doors swing
I'm caught in
tunnels of
aerodynamic slings
Hair in rods
devoid of style
I meet the man
of my dreams
as he passes through
a rye smile
he exchanged
He too now
in the wind tunnel
experiment
a knowing look
passes through us
we've something in
common at last-
porcupie style
passing for
"hello"