On her seventeenth birthday
she went, as she did last year
and the year before,
to her hairdresser and said
she wanted red.
“Red? Again?” I said.
“It’s a family thing,” she sighed and said.
“On my birthday I go red
and every year
you shake your head.”
JDG
Could be worse! She could have said,
“This year I think that I’ll go ‘grass’
so instead of your head, you’ll shake your…”
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