Up up the fly away wig doth go revisited and revised April 19th, 2023

IM pen named Pilot Jane A. Rug
who ascribes to writing poetry
as opportunistic, holistic, and cathartic
warming me body electric
courtesy an outsize
warm brimful coffee mug
I savor and slowly chug.

Toupee piece blew off me bald noggin
with zag and zig

went off for hair raising shindig

donning noggin of villager in Nigg
(historic county of Ross-shire,

historic region of Ross

and Cromarty, northeast

coast of Scotland).

Somehow postiche crossed the big pond
once belonged to magician,

who could create static electricity waving wand

across artificial tresses colored blond,

which wizard in disguise did abscond

with priceless peruke

(archaic word for periwig)

cuz said luxurious locks
once belonged to Dolly Parton.

Though I embellished

and expounded from original
poem still probably not very clear,

nevertheless toil onward if ye dare.

Upon occasion the missus

doth plop squat foursquare
on her plump derriere
brandishes scissors to keep hair
closely cropped to her scalp.

Once upon a time,
not very long ago somewhere
over the rainbow
within the Milky Way Galaxy,
she managed plying
chutzpah, guts and moxie to scare

connive, finagle, inveigle,
et cetera, an unused wig another
tenant at Highland

Manor Apartments here

(Compact, low slung,
and well maintained
dwellings by big booted (size 14)

previous onsite natural marvel

property manager Kevin Bair
him with shiny pate,

the former onsite jack (jilted)
of all trades handyman balladeer

crooning of Jen Tra Fide
units made like new

for those in despair
battling a crisis, and experiencing

little salvation on broken wing and prayer
low cost affordable renting facilities

though not by a near
and/or far cry ritzy as
luxury places named Bel Air,

but energy efficient air

tight, quieter than a cemetary).

Anyway, zee spouse I dare
say casts a shadow clear

the size of Rhode Island,

and chanced to acquire

ratty noggin head gear,
she did need toupee joost a dime,

and quickly realized shear
hideousness, sans "FAKE" hirsute

wig required ample

tender loving care,
thus she betook

what closely resembled
skinned hide of a distant forebear,
(or perhaps def leppard)

to Liberty thrift store,
but encountered manic tear

roar (cue Katy Perry), when enroute,

to said rectilinear

structure, out car window flew wig
landing inaccessible risking life or limb
mighty size wife easily deflected career

ring vehicles (imagine

mini measle lee Andre the Giant)
despite drivers abruptly halting to stare
as pint size super woman

gingerly didst ensnare

tire worn and tread full sorry excuse

for those claiming going bald unfair

even if renaming opposite

of being hirsute male/female

pattern receding hairline

all the way back to nape of neck.

Interesting how odd

distribution of atavistic fur

witnesses enough coily kinks

donning nether regions of body

flowing to ground within a year.