Identity Crisis in Barbershop Mirror

One time I went to the barber.

I asked her to cut my hair, then to trim my nose, ears and front teeth, all of which are a bit on the large side.

She refused, even after I offered her a huge tip.

I guess there are some aspects of ourselves that can only be changed by Time, and Time doesn't accept tips, not even very generous ones. Not even pillows.

I folded a warning about alcohol in to a lovely shape and then my computer froze.

The phone rang twice and there was some paint on the table.

She told a story about her kids that ended up in the Mangrove (three s)

I take my thoughts and leave them out in the sun to dry. Then I inflate them with helium, hoping to watch them soar, though more often than not they deflate with an awkward farting sound.

It might be why I'm afraid of puddles.