beards

I get the feeling (though it’s never been plainly stated)
That for a man, the capacity to grow a beard is quite the source of pride.
Those with full beards can look pensive and wise
Merely by leaning back and rubbing their chins.
Those who cannot faithfully shave their thin whiskers every day
As if to say,
“Oh I could have a beard if I wanted one.
I simply choose this naked face."

And those with the power to beard that truly do choose a naked face
At least once a week,
Will “forget” and leave a scruff, to distinguish themselves from their lesser smooth-faced friends.

Surprisingly, for women, it is entirely different.

I know some women with quite a bit of chin hair.
You’d think they too would wear it proudly.

But they hide in a room with a mirror that blows their face up to the size of the room
And a vicious pair of tweezers,

And emerge only when their face is smooth and clean.
They walk into the world and say, “Of course I have no beard. I am woman.”

Now some women have nothing like this to worry about.
But for them the shock will be worse
When around fifty they look into the mirror
And the light catches their face in such a way
That they note, a rather long hair
Where there was none before.
Were psychologists to do a test, I have a suspicion they would find a strong correlation between this traumatic discovery and the purchase of new clothes, a gym membership, and the word “botox” typed into the Google box.

Some people say I’m really reading into things, that people actually just shave and don’t shave and don’t think about it at all.
Skeptics.
In the same way I can’t understand when they speak another language,
They simply don’t speak beard.