Ode to Intense Red-Blonde 6.66

To my scarlet letter strands,
thank you for being the mane
that can never be a rein
allowing a man to guide me
as he rides me in the wrong direction.
Thank you for being the mane
that slaps men in their red faces
ashamed of the cat calls
I confront. Bellowing out 
my siren call that guides seamen 
to their self-charted demise—
a collision with the rocky tower
they built. They cannot compete
with the wave of a Red Sea.
I sing to them
I am not an animal for you to coo and woo
I am not a doll for you to sway and play with
I am not a girl, too weak to say no—
but I was.

To my ruby hooded cape
thank you for being the snood
the crude Bad Wolf can't tear off.
Thank you, box 6.66,
for being the transaction
causing the chemical reaction
selling my muted soul to 
myself. Now, a vibrant muse,
I am my own rider
saddle-less as I reign 
over you.

To my crimson wife,
thank you for bringing with you
a chemical bond
altering my dullness.
Thank you for bringing with you 
the passion I always had for myself
but never knew to show
until now.

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