Bristle

The smell of Bay Rum
And powdered talcum
And of men far away from their wives

Every day after work
But before coming home
My grandfather stopped in at
His gymkhana

It was "Natives Only"
But outside that detail
It was a perfect scale model
Of a proper British Gentleman's Club

You could play lawn tennis
Or a rubber of bridge
And drink whiskey and soda
Or rum from the local sugarcane

The smell of Bay Rum
And powdered talcum
And of men far away from their wives

My father however
Did not join any clubs
Styling himself as a self made man
In the best of the American sense

Still it didn't seem right
To come straight home from work
So each afternoon
He stopped off at the barber's

The smell of Bay Rum
And powdered talcum
And of men far away from their wives

Styling myself as a self made man
In the best of the American sense
I shaved myself with a disposable Bic

Until the day when all razors
Came with five separate blades
Which seems absurd on the face of it
And quite patently ridiculous

So I grew out my beard
For the first time in years
And over time
It had turned salt and pepper

The black hairs are soft
Twisty tapered like ribbon
But the white hairs are stiff
And almost perfectly round

Though seeded together
They grow so differently
The beard on my face
Is at war with itself

So I went to the barber's
And sat in the chair
Observed my reflection
As he lathered the brush

And as he was about
To touch the blade to my throat
I said "shave it close and keep it clean
I want my face to be smooth
Like a fresh baby's bottom"

The smell of Bay Rum
And powdered talcum
And of men far away from their wives