On that step

The optician’s sign reads:
Worried about your sight?
Reading faces like braille with a skinless touch
I want to ask,
“What about the ones who see too much?”

Don’t misunderstand me, I would not exchange my spectacles for yours
It’s just that there are times when I find myself
On fire for no other factor than I mistook a box of matches
For a nuclear reactor.

There are times I’d take an adjustment of this lens
To correct this near-and-farsightedness
Just there in between the
Soft spongy blossoms and dagger-hard edges

Went to the psychologist, she said, “You remind me of a friend back when
I was broken but now I charge by the hour,”
I wanted to give her a story but mistook the middle for the start
I always seem to begin where the trust fell apart.

At the end of the session while she scribbled her notes
On a scarf that knitted itself to her throat
She said I had a condition called ‘racing mind’
She showed me the door and something pharmaceutically inclined.
I wasn’t convinced, so I went on my way
Wobbly glasses slipping down my nose as
I tried to read my new diagnoses.

Somewhere in there
Between cellar and stair
I decided to sit
And it all came apart
A long skein of wool
With the end and the start
Together for one
Solid moment of fun.

On that step. readiness

About subincontinentia

writer and eternal optimist
This entry was posted in epoche and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to On that step

  1. Steph Wintjes says:

    Now your racing mind has super-charged mine. It’s that balance between soft spongy splodges and dagger-hard edges.

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