obsession, fixation, and compulsion
when at long last attempt
to get a figurative
firm grip on elusive cerebral
mental health imps of the perverse,
who wont otherwise surrender
come hell or high water
fighting tooth and nail
to retain a foothold on my psyche
without putting up a fight
and signaling being on the defensive
courtesy a war whoop
buttressing, fortifying and naysaying
frankly zippily zapping against
surrendering - even after the fact
qua long scraggly hair
could not oppose
or prevent scissors
from dodging dirty deed
in one fell swoop,
which sacrifice ought to take
less than a year to recoup.

Ere since being a lad
easily feeling intimidated
particularly courtesy in close
proximity to a lovely lass
while precariously teetering
on the cusp of puberty,
and childhood's end,
(which hashtagged and hi-jacked me
with hi Fidel itty (to Cuba)
development of mein mean body
thwarted, stunted, delayed, et cetera
courtesy anorexia nervosa),
as an (unbeknownst to me then)
de facto scapegoat or life
cause of being runt of a boy,
(who grew up less than average
in height and weight)
when staring at skinny legs
deprived of physical maturation
nevertheless do count blessings
in regard to my free and clear
smooth complexion face
only affected by pouches under the eyes
(even now more'n a half century later,
countenance mostly unblemished,
and after a close shave
smooth as a blank,
(you dear reader
can fill in the word blank
with whatever strikes your fancy),
anyway upon experiencing metamorphosis
of pre to post pubescence,
I found warm comfort
zealously, vehemently, and
submissively protesting
vis a vis locking and barricading
myself inside boyhood bedroom
then situated within
Glen Elm at 324 Level Road
not budging an inch
against getting a haircut
rooting against the injustice
and vaguely remember
putting up a fuss and a hue,
where parents at a loss what to do
against protesting going to a barber,
whence both me father
and mother backed off
subsequently setting in motion
a little known law of Sir Isaac Newton -
videlicet put up a figurative stink
employing passive aggressive resistance,
served as a quasi pseudo ticket,
which became the modus operandi
setting the figurative stage
to become a long haired
pencil necked geek
spending an inordinate
amount of time
primping and preening
analogous to a bird
preparing him/herself
like a thieving magpie
to captcha a mate
but in my case time consuming
diligently washing and combing
what would become
a short lived habit costing
extensive expenditure of time
finagling teeth of comb
or bristles from a brush
attempting to neaten mussed hair
and believe me you once upon a time
I spent countless hours
making sure every last strand of hair
forcibly stayed in perfect place,
and when necessary
even resorted to applying
a liberal spritz of hairspray
perhaps one among the following
aerosol products (to ward off
painstakingly groomed hair
the answer my friend
blowing in the wind)
most likely applying one or more
of the following products
meant for women:
Aqua Net: The absolute juggernaut
of 1970s and 80s hair care,
famously manufactured
by Fabergé during that time.
Final Net by Clairol:
A groundbreaking clear mist
that Clairol marketed
as a long-lasting alternative
to traditional aerosols.
Alberto VO5: Known
for "14-hour hold"
and heavily advertised
during the 70s,
utilizing conditioning formulas
to protect against wind and humidity.
Adorn: A popular
non-sticky hairspray brand
famous for catchy jingles
and "self-styling" pump
and aerosol sprays.
Miss Breck: Beloved
by "Breck Girls",
offering super-hold sprays
that eventually helped fuel
the big-hair craze.
Clairmist by Clairol:
A popular regular and unscented
non-aerosol hair mist
from the late 1970s.

No real clear or even murky idea
exists at present,
why I neglected appearance 
until an urgency arose
without absolute zero forethought
to detest donning
looking like Chewbacca,
often nicknamed "Chewie,"
a legendary Wookiee warrior
from the planet Kashyyyk
in the Star Wars universe
then a sudden immediacy arose
to get shorn like a sheep
(now two days after getting
more than twelve inches
of me locks lopped off
courtesy beautician
at Salon Nova -
see previously posted
poem of mine)
how extremely, irrationally,
and outrageously all consuming
exaggerated illogical thoughts
fell away like scales

and once and for all

to get a handle

on an unflattering schleppy look
regarding where follicles grew

(like a tree in Brooklyn)
from which sprouted countless
"strands of hair"
depending on context
and can refer
to individual filaments
or grouped clusters.

Common synonyms include
locks of hair, tresses,
tufts, wisps, or filaments.

Though long overdue,
a small number of reasons
without rhymes explain
why I made a snap decision
not only for undergoing
a complete makeover
two yesterdays ago July seventh
two thousand and twenty six
foremost being maintenance
(or lack thereof),
but also abide
by a private objective
to avoid sporting

unkempt tangled tresses,

(that resembled dreadful locks),
albeit abiding to forego
lapsing into a dominant pattern
letting hair to go
to the figurative birds

motivated to donate

about a half dozen ropy lock

to the non-profit wigs for kids

whence for nearly three quarters
of mein kampf, which...
you do the math and figure out
the number of years
this earthling completed
x number of orbits
around the sun with the hint
of my birthday being January thirteenth
ninety fifty and nine Anno Domini (AD)
after common era.