the beard

you grow a beard
to appear wiser.
it's better
than any diplomas
pinned to a wall.
you sit outside
the coffee houses
and stare at a point
in the distance
as if meditating
on the future of
mankind. slowly
you run your fingers
through the bristles,
petting it as
if it's a cat
wrapped around
your face,
white and grey
like wisdom
should be. you
keep quiet. you
have observed wise
men and none of
them talk unless
spoken to, or asked
a question that only
they can answer.
you'll try that
for a while,
be one of them,
keep silent,
until they find you
out, until they know
that it's just a beard.