“You know?” No, no I don’t.
Thank you kindly for the information.
I didn’t realize that I spent my days
Surrounded by sleuths, turning
Their spectacled sights upon
An apparently ignorant specimen
Of woman: that I do not possess
That glass of magnification, burning
Through my delicate eyes, as it would
Ants with concentrated solar power.
No, my sight did appear intact,
But you just opened my eyes to yearning,
And I now know that vision is fickle,
And that burning? Turns out that lenses
Are obscured by plastic covers. Who knew?
Heated plastic melts, drips, churning
Forming opaque beads of reluctance
In a puddle of perspiration and tears,
Of which there is no dire shortage.
Anyways, thanks for that.
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