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by Arthur Parten

It's been about a month
since last I saw her.
She tells me on the phone
how she always loved my beard.
How it made me seem distinguished.

Her voice is full of something
but I can't make out what.
I blame it on the tinny sound.
The connection is always off here.

I promise I'll see her soon.
She's still talking about my damn beard.
She says I should grow it back,
and she really prefers men with facial hair.

When we hang up, I smile for a good minute
and scratch the two weeks' growth.
I get to work.
Later my skin is raw from cutting too close, and
I still check to make sure I didn't miss a spot.


Posted on 04/11/2007
Copyright © 2020 Arthur Parten

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Deborah S Regan on 04/12/07 at 12:06 AM

good poem, it makes you think about missing someone

Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 04/12/07 at 01:09 AM

heh....yeah....i cut my hair off once after much the same conversation.

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/12/07 at 01:18 AM

An amusing play of emotions and an ending I did not suspect.

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/12/07 at 03:29 AM

Man, those last couple of lines cut right to the bone. Wonderfully done.

Posted by Matthew Sharp on 09/23/09 at 08:29 PM

awesome, ive been in a similar situation that also made me wanna cut it all off. good write:)

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