We talked at length about her cervix and her decision to no longer perm her hair. A woman at the Cape Verdean salon in Roxbury told her you were more beautiful with long black hair. I told her they’re bitches even though they’re my people. I stared at her curly Sierra Leone sunset making my dead black strands cower. She said when she takes a bath she can feel where they’ve cut her cervix. We have a lot in common though I have not felt my own. Fingers move my unsettled hair around to hide the bald spots. She said we look alike when we met for lunch today. The pain is back and I feel underdressed. A wave of bare elbows digging trenches in the tabletops.