80. Brewer's Muttonchops

My brother Brewer-- who is four years my junior-- is beating me in the race to make our foreheads bigger. I am content to let him win this. But it seems as though there is a balance, that perhaps the hair that leaves his head is really just making a break for his face. And maybe there is some jealousy in that. Despite the several months I spent with no way to trim my beard, it was never as full as the one Brewer can wield in just a couple weeks.  But, like a true badass, that's not how he wears it.

I wear a beard, for I don't like to shave;

it's not the best face-sweater that you've seen.

But Megan likes it and approval gave

so I don't have to keep my face shaved clean.

My middle brother, Brewer, grows a beard

as thick and lustrous as my vaunted Pop's.

But his wife thinks it tickles, finds it weird,

and so he sports amazing muttonchops.

They stream in red-brown waves across his cheeks

and suit him for Victorian society.

Amidst his many individual tweaks

they stand out as a source of notoriety.

I wouldn't choose to wear those flowing locks

but still I can't help thinking that it rocks.