twin braids

i stole her hairstyle.

two twin plaits from

one long, long

ponytail,

i took it for myself.

it looked different, of course,

from her silken black hair tickling

the bottom of her waist

to my awkward brown mop,

but i still stole it

and put it on my head.

i wonder if she noticed and

if she had,

was she flattered?

or maybe insulted,

seeing her design

made mine

from my foolish,

unpracticed hands–

how does the artist ever feel

seeing the impression?

i felt a little silly,

brandishing my braids

in front of her,

did I do it right?

i found myself fiendish

for her approval, for her to take my hair

and fix it with her hands,

manicured and smooth–

would she pat my shoulder

as she finished?

tell me

all done! and smile,

or would she wipe her hands

on her skirt,

eager to be rid of the feel

of drugstore shampoo.