pictured here in his salad days, and needing a haircut, works as a graphics designer at a wine company, drawing pictures of wine bottles, kimonos, kangaroos, and many other things that are used by wine companies for various reasons.
His latest publications can be found in decomP
, The Delinquent
and Northville Review
—Back to Bumbershoot Contents—
When I broke up with Leona, my hair was short, over the ears.
When I broke up with Tina, my hair was really long, and I put it
in a pony tail. Sometimes I was a little embarrassed about doing that!
When I broke up with Angie, my hair was in a little bowl cut. This nice lady cut
it that way for me—she was a Marine and carried a gun everywhere,
even when she cut hair. I haven’t seen her in a while. Her name was Angie.
I did not break up with Ginger. She died. She was my dog. I miss Ginger.
When I broke up with Susie, I was completely bald. It’s easy to explain why—
I decided it was a time for a new beginning.
Walking through the thicket and hearing the honking sound of the geese as
I looked at the crimson maple leaves as they fluttered down into the lake
is what I did when I broke up with Sally, my Sally.
When I broke up with Ginny I dyed my hair the color that Egyptians used to
color their hair: red. I called her ‘Virginia’ because she really hated that,
Ginny did. Virginia did. It’s funny how some people hate things that aren’t
really worth hating—life is too short to hate! Suck it up, Virginia.
When I broke up with Angel I ran as fast as I could with my golden hair
flying in the breeze until I finally got to my apartment and then I put a big
dresser up against the door because I knew that Angel loved to kill people
When I broke up with Susie. Oh wait. I already told you about that.
When I broke up with Christie my hair was in little ringlets like
Marie Antoinette. It’s astounding that I broke up with Christie
and that she didn’t break up with me because of my little ringlets.
When I broke up with Eleanor my hair was cut in the fashionable
‘Beatle’ mop-cut of the day—wait—I never went out with Eleanor.
It’s the Beatles on the radio. I always hated that Eleanor Rigby
song that everybody else in the world seems to love. I bet
Virginia loves it. It’s a dumb song and it does not tug at
the heart strings of me.
I will never forget the look of Susie’s eyelids as they covered
her eyes when she slept which I could stare at for hours.
I will never know why I broke up with Susie.
When I went to get my haircut, it was so short that it did not fall
into my eyes after I threw a glass of water in Cathleen’s face
at dinner which I did as a joke but she said I meant it
you never know maybe I did it’s hard to say.
It is only perhaps true that ‘Virginia’ was named after
the Native American ‘Wingina.’
Life is too short. Speaking of which, I think in another life
I dated a woman named Lucy. The thing is, what is interesting is,
we never broke up. We both died. I wrapped my hair around her,
silky smooth and leonine, and she wrapped hers around me,
luxurious in length and blondish, and we floated into space
the way people do in eternity throughout galaxies of stars
that seemed to swirl around us in a conveyance of
surreal indigo swirliness.
When I broke up with Susie—who am I kidding? Susie broke up with me.