“Mullet” & “(Bird) Feeder”

by Barker Thompson

Mullet 

I got a mullet today 

I like how it hangs out behind my ears 

I like how it does 

its own thing 

The woman who cuts my hair has curls 

that fade in and out 

of different colors 

and a child from 

a previous marriage 

She pays people 

she can’t be to take her son to beaches and 

waterparks hears 

about the day’s 

adventures as she 

brushes anonymous 

hairs off the back of her neck laughing she says hair gets everywhere 

I let her style my new hair with gels and 

waxes because 

I like how they smell like the grimy parts 

of flowers even if 

I wash it all off as 

soon as I get home 

and I think that life is just that: sticky things and previous marriages like everyone’s always asking where you’re from and not where you’re going in the shower I run my hands from my cheekbones to the back of my neck

the hair gets thicker 

                                and thicker 

                                                  and thicker

(Bird) Feeder 

On the bird feeder is a sparrow with an eye infection. It keeps rubbing its body hard against the plastic, staining 

it yellow with a liquid that pools slowly at its eyelids. My eyelids are mechanical, closing shut once twice 

as my mom reminds me that this bird we cannot save. On a family walk around the neighborhood a child 

brings a guitar to play until one day they realize it is inappropriate to do so. Listening to the strums 

for the last time, my eyelids are slippery. There’s a new internet trend where people try to predict what humans 

would look like if we evolved from different animals. It’s that kind of science we can’t get enough of, 

my favorite is the human-descended-from-owl. The eyes are large bowls and in order to blink, the eyelids 

require more exertion to cross this newly vast distance. I think they would have to be curtains made of skin. 

Outside, I’m waiting for the valley to be blue. All the clouds are chemtrails, that kind of cactus that grows flowers 

right before it dies. Today the freeways looked like necklaces, tomorrow they’ll look ugly again. If I had owl 

eyes I’d see the palm trees bend until they break. Crossing a vast distance, I feel my skin finding skin.