Jan Sand (February 2 1926 / USA)
Every morning I declare
With this razor
That no hair
Shall display itself upon my face.
Each hirsute invader
Banished from a gazer
Shall suffer me no disgrace
To ban me from
Social approval in a public place.
This ritual of beard removal
Sanctifies my bald mug,
Perhaps encourages a sexy glance
From passing salacious prospects
Leading, hopefully, to a hug...
Ultimately, a mutual drop of pants.
Ah, well, I foam my chin.
Nice thoughts for my day
And clean swathes through soap
In happy thoughts full of hope.
Comments about this poem (Shaving by Jan Sand )
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