Poetic Just Is

(1st of a mini-series of taking poetic license)

I made a decision.
Stop with the inquisition.
It just is.

My mind is made,
Nothing more to be weighed.
It just is.

Simply admire the gloss,
And accept that I’m my own boss.
It just is.

There’s no age limit
To getting a mullet.
So get used to it.

Image: Pixabay

You may also want to see:
2nd of the mini-series
3rd of the mini-series
4th of the mini-series
5th and last of the mini-series

Hairific: Fried Day

TGIF

Image: Pixabay

A Series of Ludicrously Bad Hair Days, Day 5, see Day 4

 [Poetry dominates short story]          

A man known as Cowlick comes out of the one restroom and raises his voice, “There’s no fire. I, uh, I lit a match because . . . to freshen the air. . .” He scowls at the woman known as Singed, who stands close to the restroom, speaking directly to her. “I didn’t know we have a human smoke detector.”
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