My eye sight’s all right.
The only glasses I’ve
ever worn were just
for show, you know.
But at the last check up
the doctor gave me a
prescription just in case
I wanted to see “a little
bit better.” I ordered
reading glasses instead
and received them just
in time for my 52nd birthday.
But I sent the wrong
prescription, so instead
of reading glasses I got
glasses glasses. I was all
set to send them back.
But then I put them on.
Suddenly, I could read things
far away. I could see leaves
and twigs and flowers in
serious detail. I watched a
show with my son
and the zombies just leapt
out at me. This morning,
scooping dog crap out of the
yard, I felt empowered. No
poop was safe in that grass.
I drove last night and
could actually see the signs,
which, I found, you know,
helpful. So I’m keeping these things.
I’m wearing ’em. I’m constantly
thinking and saying, hey,
look at that, look at this,
did you see that? I mean,
for now at least, I can’t
read a book for shit, but
I can see the sky, and until
my readers arrive, that will
have to do.