Nothing Stays The Same.

Everything changes.

As I sit in the car with the engine running,
Burning imperceptible increments of gas, 

The kind where you go from half a tank to low fuel warning
In just a few tire rotations.
30 miles to go.  

I witness this change. The levels change,
But only slightly.

In my mind
Infinite miles fit between F and E. 

And so I sit. Waiting.
0 miles per hour.

Time passing. Wasting.
X gallons per second. 

I let down my visor to inspect my freshly shaven face. 
I feel different. Clean. 

Scruff transformed into a manicured mustachio and goatee.
No whatever o’clock shadow looming.
I was never able to grow a full beard anyhow.

Youthful. 

I always ask my bearded bredren, 
"how’d you get your beard so full and lush?"
“You just gotta let it grow.” 

Dry answer almost begging me to respond with an equally parched,
“Duh.” 

I do. I have. Let it grow for years at a time.

Thinking that the fuzz 
would become scruff
Then full sunnah. 

Never. 

Perhaps there is no secret solution. 

The beauty of my beard, if I may call it that
Is that it grows long enough for greys to emerge.
A literal silver lining. 

I tug them gently in the mirror,
Hard enough to unravel their full length,
Yet ever-so gently so as not to pluck them. 

This is evidence of change.
I don’t want to disrupt it.