swoosh. there it is.

fatal attraction.

the thing that gets me every time.
the swoosh.
there is no other way to describe this kind of hair that some men possess than with the word swooshy.
it is art. beyond language capabilities. 
and it renders me speechless each time.


remember the call center boy?
i passed him on the street on thursday.
he drives a blue car, and he was wearing sunglasses.
the only reason i recognized him was because his hair was as swooshy as ever.


while at cavestock, i ogled a boy from a neighboring school.
he had bright red swooshy hair. glasses. and a lot of freckles.
i was a goner.


i have a secret crush on another boy, who also maintains a fair amount of swoosh.
he also sang to me. more or less.


things are getting out of hand.
considering that none of these men are remotely close to letting me run my hands through their hair.


why does fate keep teasing me with one time encounters with swooshy-haired men?


to the next one: please stay. at least long enough for me to touch your locks.


impatiently yours,
han.