Red

Posted: July 16, 2010 in Poetry, The Copper Conundrum
Tags: , ,

CONTEXT: June, 2010

Working on material for the first Copper Conundrum shows, we got into a discussion about what it was like to grow up with red hair.

The thing is – it wasn’t until I was an adult that I even HEARD of the idea that red-heads were treated badly. That wasn’t what I experienced. (Though I do HATE the term ginger.)

Now being named RUSTY on the other hand… 🙂

But really, it isn’t that I LIKE having red hair, it is more that I couldn’t picture NOT having it. It is who I am.

So I wrote a silly little poem.

Note: When I was coming up with alternate names if I wasn’t called Rusty I picked Ricky and Randy. Then I decided to switch Randy as a tribute to the one and only RC Weslowski.

    Red

Red isn’t just a colour to me.
Red is my identity.
More times than I can count
I have been asked
“Why do they call you Rusty?”
Accompanied by a wry smile
Or knowing glance –
Really an unknowing glance
Since their rhetorical
Question has led them astray.
They assume my name followed
My curly red locks –
Once perched atop
Of my head – now migrated
Chinward…
But NO!
On the fateful day in
March, 1968, a brand-new
Pasty white beach-ball
Bounced into the world
As bald as Picard.
Birth certificate says Russell
But I’ve been called Rusty
Since my hair was
Nothing more than a
Daydream.
But I have grown into my hair colour
As my hair colour has grown into me.

Would I still be me
If I was a blonde named Ricky?
Or a dark haired
RC Priskowski?
But alas, that we will never see
For I am red
And red is me.

““““““““““““““““““““

Next is a fairly new, fairly popular piece about angst.

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