"Now, i concentrate on making some strange hat or head dress."

She made chocolates for Valentine's Day and invited the man she likes to a stage interpretation of "Cinderella." He said yes but had to back out when his elderly mother fell ill. She stiffened to my embrace when I could see that she was sad.

I took his seat at the performance, a decidedly sultry adaptation: Cinderella's feathery bust piece was bright red as she danced to music by Tom Waits. How would they have sat next to one another through this?

She was nervous before the actors entered. She said she was always nervous before other people had to perform. She said it's about time she cuts her hair again. Her bob is getting long.　She made the hat she's wearing in this picture.

Gustav Klimt paints Erykah Badu: drunk, miniature, and Japanese

It's cocktails after class and I can sense a hive of curls buzzing next to me. I look into her face and we're inside a Klimt painting. She tells me I'd be better off with my hair swept away from my face; I am at her complete mercy. She asks me on a date, and I say yes. She is putting my hair behind my ears for me, asking everyone for their approval. She pushes her glass up to the bar and they pour more white wine over her round, enormous rocks of ice. I eat an olive out of her martini glass. There are too many to count (but where are the martinis they came with)? Her card says "President" and she promises to send me an invitation to her show.

The student who brought me there, Ken, is drooling agape and telling her how much we both love fashion, while I apologize for him with my eyes, knowing I'd just told her otherwise. She smiles back. I can see now that she looks like a tiny rendering of Erykah Badu. Ken orders me another undrinkable cocktail. This one is orange in color. Ken has no idea what I like, I realize. Erykah Badu probably does.

Seventy More Years

My silver hair looked into me from the mirror and asked me questions about men. I held it up in the fluorescent light and listened. May I spend my life gently, with a gentle man? Can we agree to this? I ironed my skirt while wearing it and wasn't late for work. What will I care about after I'm dead?

フルーツ パフェ （Fruits Parfait)

He's telling me about the time his hairdresser failed at seducing him on the couch and the waitress has stopped on the carpeted stairs to touch her bouffant in the mirror. I'm stroking the hair that now covers my ears but which just grazed them when you were here. Tomorrow I'll have it cut so I can stop measuring how long you've been away.