The cigarette jitters between
her fingers as she
cranes her face away from the road
so her co-workers won't
see her crying.
Leaves cling to the trail
and his boots.
As he tries climbing away from his problems
in the woods. The mud and decay
only help him slide further into it.
�
They both hide under the mass of his hair
the stylist and the man in the chair
they both laugh
hoping the other won't notice.
She trims, her secrets falling to the floor
he stares straight into himself
so no one else can dig through his head.
