Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Bukowski no. 30

I liked the way that she looked because she was wearing glasses.
I enjoyed her face and the metaphor but I knew I was taking it too far.
I looked at lenses and saw facets of understanding,
I looked at frames and saw the construction of a view of the world.
I knew she saw me through them and so when she smiled at me
I knew that her vision had been corrected, that without the glasses
I was a blurred monstrosity to her
and just because it was true I thought she believed it
so it made me uncomfortable when she wore contacts.

I thought I had run out of olives but I found another jar deep on a shelf
and I ate a few dozen
and the ones I didn’t eat stared at me from behind the glass,
but there’s got to be more to their lives than that.

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