Ode To Head

“Ode to Head”                                                                                                          

The top of my head exudes joy.

Sometimes this is all the photographer sees.

A few teeth, an open eye, perhaps even a gummed-up smile –

With long scraggly hairs dangling down.

I rub my face with a lukewarm towel

Clean, gray, safe from a particular odor.

Of course I’ll need an aid, maybe even a trim.

The stars do it. I should follow suit.

You open a never ending passageway in awe,

Then crack a toothy smile.

The ceaseless pleasures of my head swirl

As wind on a blustery April morning.

Huff, puff, take all of it in if that is your wish

That bald spot needs to be caressed, as like a porcelain dish.

After grasping it, the head ejaculates a milky fluid

From its long shaft into your cusp.

You thought this was about performing oral sex?

Get off your knees and clean yourself up.

I put lotion on my sore bald head.