(After It’s Not Easy Being Green, The Muppets)

It’s not that easy being gray,
hair the color of Spanish moss
hanging from the banyans,
absent the silky shine of children,
photographers’ models,
impeccably groomed socialites

It’s not that easy being gray,
hair the texture of wire
springing away from the scalp,
shocked at its own existence,
like it has lost its way
and doesn’t know where to roam.

Gray is hormone-sapped split ends,
dread-locks framing a lived-in face.
People tend to pass you over
‘cause you remind them
of things they would rather forget.

But gray’s the color of clouds before rain,
and gray can feel cool and friendly, like
a ball bearing that broke loose and rolled
free, far from home.  And gray’s what you get
if you’re lucky enough to live that long, and I think
gray is what I want to be.