though he was unaware of rashes that appeared
and burning skin where all his interest had piqued.
He’d told her that the daily chore was just a bit too much
no man could be expected to perform this menial task,
so he had left to Nature and to Gods as such
the tough decisions and he did not ever ask
if anyone did like his growth, now turning gray
the subject had avoided him and he had turned his head
but now, a door had opened, ringing in a novel day
so here is what she thought and what she never said:
I hate this bracken on your face, this Muslim tag,
you could have fooled the world and even caught a fag,
don’t tell me God gave you this coarse and gruffy hair
Her, take this razor, it’s from Remington, I dare
that you cut off the evil growth and please tonight
it would so please me and I’d douse the ceiling light
and we would snuggle near the fire, reading prose
I want your beard off so we CAN be very close!

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