mmmmdccviii

Shaving or Stalling?

I’ve been telling everyone
(which is hardly anyone)
that I’m shaving this beard.

I’ll say or type something
like “last day with my
face hair.” Am I looking

for comments? “No,
please don’t!” Like,
right. The closest I get

is my boyfriend saying
“I don’t believe you.”
Because he knows me.

I don’t procrastinate.
I stall. Either in some
sort of limbo awaiting

particular things to
happen (the expected—
or unexpected—influx

of cash, finishing an
episode of a television
show, writing this poem,

recording myself reading
this poem, posting this
poem, posting the

recording of me reading
this poem, etc.) – there
is always a plan – it is

not that I’m unaware, not

that I am doing nothing.
My next to do list will be

the most efficient. I’ll

make everything happen,
there’ll be no stalling.

Anyway, it’s been at
least two weeks, or
probably twice that,

I’ve been threatening
this all salt no pepper
beard will be gone by

the end of today. So
I’m not going to say
that anymore. Either

I’ll wake up tomorrow
without it. Or I wake
up with it. No drama.

No guilt (For a beard?
It’s metaphorical guilt
for all that I put off.

What of it?).
And that’s that.