I don’t know if I have the wind in my hair,
or if my hair is in the wind, but I know
I’ve been cutting it close every time
the light turns yellow, the approximate color  

of my hair before it turned brown and then gray
as the elephant I remember being in another life,
or maybe I’m remembering being a snake or
a wall or someone with a very big nose,  

which I used to sniff the expired yogurt
in my fridge, which smelled okay to me,
but which I tossed out anyway, along with
my speeding tickets, which will surely  

catch up to me eventually, unless I expire first.