My Home-Brewed Beard

  • My Home-Brewed Beard

    Why did you grow a beard? She asked me
    Only a child is ever so forward
    and a child will ask the questions we never expect
    Like, why did I grow a beard?

    I think it looks good, is my answer today
    She ponders this with a frown
    Beard queries mean as much as questions about God
    And you can touch a beard

    I don’t like it, you look better without it
    she says with youthful surety.
    Well, that is that, she switches subjects like channels
    Before I am quite ready

    Why do I wear a beard? I have a weak chin
    Is my frequent answer to this
    I’m too lazy to shave, I respond on Tuesdays
    Sundays, razors damage the dermis

    The seventies were the easiest time in the world
    To spare one’s cheeks from the blade
    My heroes were hairy, girl-laden, and wealthy
    And most times, after shaving, I bled

    When twenty, a beard made me feel thirty and dashing
    General Custer without the Indians
    moody horsebacked envy of colonels and majors
    By forty the bare spots had filled in

    The silver in my beard of sixty opens doors for me
    Ageist chivalry in all its glory
    Instead of tickets, I get a chuckle and a warning
    The whiskers, it’s gotta be

    I must be hiding something, my beard is a mask
    or so the pundits declaim
    who in daily rite razor part of their manhood away
    What are they hiding from?

    The mirror sees well each wart and wrinkle
    through my barrier of hair.
    I cannot answer a question asked wrong
    My beard grows with me.

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2 responses to this post.

  1. Greg, this is a masterpiece. Your ‘things fall apart’, but without the fear of the Horsemen. Sensitive, knowing, sweet and charming. Thanks for this gift. I’m just hoping as a jealous bystander that it took more than five minutes to compose and hone. The child foil is perfect. If this were Xanga I could ‘Rec’ it, with a bullet.

    Reply

    • Yoni, I woke up, and there it was, on my screen, waiting for me to press CTRL -s…. actually, it came to fruition rather quickly, approximately a day and a pinot noir-fueled night
      Tusa is a natural artist and curious about everything, asks the darnedest questions.

      Reply

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