Living with hair so curly

causes people serious envy.

But when rain and humidity come

they don’t understand the frenzy.

Little hairs pop out all over,

going into my mouth and up my nose.

Was that a bug? I slap my face,

making sure my lips are closed.

When I’m not hurting myself

I may need to giggle at the tickle.

I tell myself to get a haircut

though with a scissors–not a sickle.

For it feels like it has turned into

a pile of hay in which I’ve lost a needle,

not a head of golden-spun locks,

but a place to search for tick or beetle.

Have no worries, my friends

I’ve not yet found any bugs

but next time you see me,

brush away the hairs as you give me my hugs!