Ozone Killers

When the door to the girl’s bathroom flew open,

Depeche Mode’s Agent Orange spilled out with the fog-

The sillage was hold-your-breath- gasp but worth it-

The sculptures we designed hardened

on our foreheads and around our ears

like linoleum and lasted beyond the 3 o’clock high.

We believed our money was well spent

packed in those long cylindrical cans

that read “33% more Extra Super Hold.”

We pulled this Aqua-Net can out of our bags

like Hermonie Granger pulled a tent out of hers.

The guys called us walking M-1 flame-throwers,

We thought it was cute, they were flirting with us.

They also tried to crush our creations as we approached

them in the hallway. We thought they were trying to find a way to touch us.

The taunts became real when it was scientifically proven that we were Ozone Killers,

CFC lovers who were punching holes into the very layer that protects

life on Earth by absorbing ultraviolet radiation.

Their taunts weren’t cute anymore – we didn’t want them to touch us.

We were marked--the glue in our hair felt like the A on Hester Prynne.

A collective shift happened gradually to “pump” hair spray bottles,

like Sebastian Spritz e forte, my favorite - all at about the time Earth Day went global,

mobilizing 200 million people in 141 countries for the love and protection of Earth.

We all made a pilgrimage to Central Park for a day of music and tree hugging.

We were like flagellants atoning for our aerosol sins.

Our state of mind shifted like the shift from aerosol to pump.

We were earnest, our sentiment was honest,

and now we feel we may have been redeemed-

We, the former ozone killers, set the stage

for international climate summits

and global recycling efforts.

Post Scriptum.

My brother recently unearthed an old Aqua Net can

hidden at the back of a cabinet

in our family’s Florida condo,

a place we rarely visit.

It looked like Chernobyl.