What I Let Them Do

The photo came out of a box

I'd shoved behind the coats.

2009. Dorm bathroom.

She had scissors and notes

from watching one YouTube video,

she said. I said sure.

I was broke and I thought—

I thought it wouldn't matter. I'm sure

I thought that. I think it a lot.

The back of my neck came out wrong,

uneven, too short on one side.

I wore hats until March was gone.

In the photo I'm half-turned, laughing

at something I can't see,

the cut line visible, crooked—

and I'm not even looking at me.

That's the part that landed

when the photo came out of the box

this week—same week I'm deciding

something else. Same locks,

same face, same angle

I turn when I'd rather not check.

Someone said it won't matter.

I'm already turning my neck.