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Why I Need Glasses
Trotting home, I flow toward globes I guess are hedges, not green dogs. Sunday's Tribune flaps under my arm As I huff faster down a floating road Of blobs, a kindergarten painting's Slapdash riot of a road-some houses Lumped from snow, some red as apples. Cars budge by, drivers like potatoes. I'd keep the world I've got, slurred So it's simple to refract a bundled man Into a mailbox, a panther's shadow Back into a tossing copper bush. I'd rush upon the random miracles For the perpetually confused, those Slag stones bursting into crows, Gas balls of flame becoming beer lamps As I pass. But someone raps a horn And waves-I bob and wave, scanning A cloudy pool for any face that knows me, Knows I'm obstinately blind. Call me A catcher scrambling for that wild pitch, A bull decoyed by every rolling blur. I rage to see-as when some sudden Gust of wind wakes me and interrupts That slow, erotic dream. No matter how Long I lie still, I'm sure I'll never Get to see my dark companion, reaching For me on that hillside I almost remember.