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Ribbons in Your Hair


by Darryl Price


Don't cry. It's only me. Even if you remember me, 
when I'm gone you won't miss me. And that's when 
everything falls. Where everything fails. For me. If it's at 
all possible, I will still love you. That's the master 
plan. Don't cry. It's only me. Show me how it 

is so easily done. This documentary as betrayal gets done, 
but no one ever gets saved in the end. Oh. 
Don't cry. It's only me. And you don't understand. Don't 
cry. It's only me. Who got close enough? Was killed? 
You messed him up him as much as any other 

pretend person. A savage snake bite is a savage snake 
bite. Please. Don't look away. Don't cry. It's only me. 
Is that a colander on your head? Is that a 
Victorian lampshade on your head? Is that a purple ribbon 
innocently placed in your wavy hair? Don't cry. It's only 

me. We're living badly in a beautiful world. And we 
are not here alone. All the sad-eyed angels come, but 
they don't do much more than sing. And swing. And 
jot down notes in heavenly tomes. Don't cry. It's still 
only me. Don't bind me. I want to be free. 

So don't cry. It's only me. No more muttering about 
nefarious ghosts underneath your hollow breath. The thieves don't like 
it. They'll hear you. And you know what that means. 
Don't cry. It's only me. I'm still here. I'm awake 
with you now. Don't cry. It's only me. And I 

absolutely know where all the hidden words are being kept. 
Wounds are fast asleep. But we will have to get 
over our fear of spiders. Watch your wings around their 
sticky minds. Their fangs will suck you dry.  Don't cry. 
It's only me. I am not a lone stranger. And 

really I don't want them anywhere near me. Or you. 
That perfectly fitted smile is not going to play well 
on this misadventure. Probably. There are cutthroats in the bushes. 
There are pirates in the ticket lines. Rainy days ahead 
means lots of mud. If I'm not mistaken. Don't cry. 

It's only me. Someone you used to play with. A 
lot. I know that look. If I am made of 
puppet wood then so are you made of puppet wood. 
Don't carry on. It's only me. There's just no stopping 
us now. Don't don't don't cry cry cry. It's only 

me. We all get bombed. Do you know what I'm 
trying to say? I do not know which of us 
has written a worse line before. Don't you cry. It's 
me. Things are going in all directions. Moths are not 
butterfly opposites. We need the whole forest to breathe.   
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