The Physics of Runco’s Hair
And then there were clocks that grew charge at his finger,
the life-giving voltage turning time to a series of LCD 8s
and a dandruff-sized spark snapping in a classroom, so much
for the ruler twisted to destruction to imitate the sound.
And Runco’s hands on the Van de Graaf generator, the strands
of his pudding bowl hair rising off him like curiosity,
turning a fat smile towards and away, towards and away
unbelieving for the half an hour or more
Mr McPherson calmed him with diagrams. You ought to relax
now, earth yourself before selecting a pen, opening a door.