The Hair

I sat and dined with a friend of mine

Exchanging views on the latest news.

There came a dramatic pause, to think

And sink my chin in the cup of my hand

For dramatic effect. I didn’t expect

To get a prick of a nylon tag or a piece of wire -

I thought I’d expire!

 

I applied myself to my prawn avocado

(with excessive bravado)

And kept the head down and tried not to frown.

While taking the white linen napkin

To refresh my lips after generous sips

Of a Sauvignon Blanc to recover my poise;

And under that guise very calmly

I probed and I pondered the fact

That ‘twas just as I feared - I was growing a beard!

 

Should I wax it, or pluck it, I wondered. With luck

If I did the job right it would shrink from my sight.

Conversation was stilted

It wilted and died on its feet.

My friend was upset by my lack of response

To the pearls of great wisdom that fell

From his lips. It was hell,

But I never could tell my dilemma.

 

Dessert came at last and he left all alone,

As I pleaded a need for ablutions.

A ghastly reflect in the neon lit glass

Showed no flaws, not a spot or a blemish.

My chin smooth as could be.

Was no comfort to me,

‘Cos I know it was there

I felt that damned hair!