There is a balcony that runs above the exhibit.
Someone must have been leaning over it
as they scratched their head
or tightened their loosened pony-tail,
for a hair detached itself from a scalp and fell,
and for once, did not land on a carpet
or a shower drain or a street where it would become invisible.
It landed on a Tyrannosaurus rex’s claw.
I want to find out who it belongs to
because personally I would like to know if part of me
was being exhibited under spotlight,
in contact with something 75 million years old.
I point the hair out to you and you smile and say wow, yeah.
And in that wow, yeah you recognise all of this absurdity.
So I do not need to write any of it down,
but you know I will anyway.