Lit Mags
A Poem About Wigs You’ll Want Toupee Your Respects To
"Wigs Everywhere," by Justin Jannise
A Poem About Wigs You’ll Want Toupee Your Respects To
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Wigs Everywhere
The brown squirrel, coiled & clinging to the guardrail of my balcony, is a wig. I stepped out of the shower to dry my feet on a damp wig. You can fold a wig in a certain way that it becomes a cup from which you can swig water or juice or wigskey, which is whiskey distilled from fermented wigs. I met Dolly Parton & she was all wig. Kristen Wiig is a wig. So was Ludwig van Beethoven. In Britain, there used to be two political parties —the Whigs & the Wigs. There are wigs that are mops & wigs that seduce cops. In some countries, it is illegal for wigs to marry other wigs. Have you ever slept in a wig? It’s itchy. The best wigs in life are free, but the second-best cost extraordinary amounts of money. Somewhere in Detroit, you can trade 20 small wigs for one giant wig & the award for Best Wig Ever goes to Medusa. I love how she’d rather lose her head than part with it & how, even without a heart, the head maintains its awful power.
