The Pope and I
meet every week
at our usual spot
He pays for my coffee
And sometimes a gluten free blueberry scone
for himself
If he’s having a bad day
The Pope picks up his scone
And I pick up my coffee
He widens his mouth
But pauses, as there is
A piece of my dark coily hair on it
Sticking out
Ready to be plucked
He slides the strand
Over the confectionery treat
Not letting it get in the way
Of his six dollar scone
He takes one big bite
While holding up my hair to the light
And with a pastry filled mouth
States how it must be nice
to have long hair
I agree with him,
it is nice
The Pope tells me that I forget
How old he really is
To prove to me that he was once my age,
with long luscious locks
He pulls up a photo
of himself as a boy with
a thick, full head of hair
A sharp contrast to his now
nearly bald head
“You were a blond” I say
I’m not sure why
but this surprises me
I always pictured him as the tall, dark, and handsome type
“Blondes have more fun” he exclaims
with a wink
He’s right,
they certainly do
Lucky for him
I have a thing for blondes
and gluten free scones
Madison Fishman is a fourth-year Photography student at the School of Visual Arts. Her work explores themes of identity, societal expectations, and personal experience, often through the lens of poetry and visual art.