Hair Extensions

by William Kilgore

My wife wears hair extensions.
I wish they made those for my mind.
They don’t have those yet, but you can bet
I’d get the longest ones I could find.

Of the writing of complex books,
There seems to be no end in sight.
Considering thoughts, in books I’ve bought,
I pour over them day and night.

Walking to the public library,
Gee Gee’s house right down the street,
At a young age, I was locked in this cage,
A journey of mind I’ve yet to complete.

A formative grade school teacher,
Who enabled me to flourish,
Saw my hunger to know, my need to grow,
And the power of books to nourish.

An endless buffet of books,
Lengthened far beyond the line.
My understanding engaged, I turn the page,
Yet, in the end, finally dying blind.

The more that gets uncovered,
The more I open up Pandora’s Box.
The more ideas I drink, the more I think,
I’m lost, deep drowning in paradox.

These answers don’t come easy.
Some questions are intricately knotted.
Still, I read, seeking answers I need,
Making the best of time allotted.

My wife wears hair extensions.
They do make those for the mind.
If one cares to look, they’re called books.
I’m reading every good one I can find.

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Dr. William Kilgore is a sociologist residing in Houston, Texas. After being an academic for thirty years, Kilgore began to write poetry in 2024 while recovering from a kidney transplant. Poetry provided a conceptual vocabulary that led him into deeper contemplation about virtually everything. Kilgore is currently teaching at a local community college, and for three universities as well. He loves to travel the world, and experience new people and cultures.