they are not twenty-twenty
who wants perfection anyway?
but they serve me fine
shadows, floaters, flashes, and sparks!
what was that? over there!
oh, never mind.
my life is enriched
by the people I meet
helping to pick up their things
bumped and sent sprawling
by little mole me.
pardon me, sir. I didn't see you.
(never mind you're six five and three-fifty)
my eyes aren't what they used to be
or never were but could be
or seldom are but should be.
my nose was Romanesque
before my peepers passed their prime
now walls have saved me
the cost of cosmetic surgery.
did you see that? can you believe it?
a five foot cat sipping on a latte.
oh, forget it.
she just took off her coat
and winked at me.
maybe I should wink back.
what?!?! and close
my one good eye?
© 2003 Jason C. Jones