William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

The Poet’s Glasses

A few days ago, I paid the relatively modest sum of fourteen dollars and ninety-five cents for two pairs of reading glasses — one for books, the other for working here at the computer. The frames are round. I’ve never worn glasses with round frames before, but I’ve always liked them — not because they make me look like John Lennon, or Igor Stravinsky, or James Joyce, which they couldn’t, and don’t, because I don’t, but because they seem suitably old-fashioned and are just offbeat enough that if someone walks past the window on their way to the door and happens to look in, they will be either more or less likely to go ahead and knock — it all depends on their sense of humor, and whether or not they still think I’m a subject that ought to be pursued. You know the answer, of course, but you have the benefit of distance, a gentle turn of mind, and a lovely tendency towards kindness — otherwise, why would you be reading this?

The Poet’s Glasses

Washed, dried,
returned to their place
halfway down his nose —
to find bright flowers
blooming madly
in the sink.

Poems, Slightly Used, June 9, 2008

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Categories: Everything and Nothing, Poems, Slightly Used

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