The Maynard
October 2013

William Doreski

You Should Grow a Moustache

You should grow a moustache to twitch
and stroke when dark ale bottoms out
in your pint glass. You should comb
your hair to conform to the sine wave

of your intellect. Casual talk
doesn't amuse. When I confront you
over a book about which we do
or don't agree I weigh every word.

Your eyewear frowns so narrowly
I wonder you can see through it.
Your green checked shirt, sleeves too long,
drapes you like a tent collapsed

on a boy scout. Can we befriend
the more relaxed parts of our minds,
or must we remain as brittle
as clamshells on a beach? A moustache

would soften your potential scorn,
tame it to fit a smaller space,
and would also filter the ale
that foams on your upper lip like

the memory of outgoing tide.
Now you're off to Erie, Cleveland,
Toledo, Chicago—straining
every muscle as you map a route

right over my wheezing farewell.
Must you always be so abrupt?
Our glasses leave rings on the table,
but in this ratty brown tavern

no one cares. Have a good trip,
and think about growing a moustache,
a tough, abrasive one like Stalin's
to both tickle and rule the world.