#231: A Poem On My 52nd Birthday (with Glasses)


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.

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