Who ever really likes anyone’s glasses?
Glasses are a falsehood
I brought the letter home in 2nd grade
Thrilled and proud
Mom was at the well out back
“Oh no” she said
I didn’t understand her disappointment
Until I got them
Tiny oval brown things
To slide down my nose in summer
Steaming up to make 4 eyes
In high school I announced my request
Contacts! May a pleeeeaaaaseee get
Contacts???
Oh, yes, the freedom! 
To wear sunglasses tinted enough
To sneak looks at boys on the beach
But then a grain of sand elicits
The urge to pluck it out
Contact, eyeball and all
Sitting with friends on a nightclub rooftop
In my 20’s, tipsy
fed up with the crowd, loud music
and the pain in my eye
I pulled the offending disk
and flung it right in front of them
They were appalled
I can slee good enough with one
I slurred
It was true
Years go by paired with various frames
Metal, plastic, oval, round, square
Each making their claim
On my face
yet none seeming right
If only I had the guts of that acid
tripping hippie
Who tossed his pair aside
to not mess with his true reality
Blurred as it may be
Enamored with nature’s details
I succumb, head outside,
bifocals in hand
at the ready