All about Spectacles
She did not wear spectacles, and if she did,
They would be sunglasses, of varied design and shades.
She was a friend of my spectacleless girlfriend, and
Her big eyes were shiny and beautiful, and did not squint.
When we returned from the dance floor, a man
Had already harried her for half a dance. There
She was, with a straw between her lips, slightly
Shaking her head in his face, eyes big as ever,
Like plump hooks. My girlfriend also used the same simile,
"Hooks." I tried to be innocent about the connotation of the word
And muttered under the tongue: "Yes, a little indeed."
Of course, I liked that pair of hooks, but
I had somehow convinced myself her eyes might tend to get men hooked
And she had no intention to hook me.
Now that man had apparently fallen into the pit of her eyes,
And he must have thought that
Her hook-eyes meant probe, encouragement and challenge,
A test of his patience and persistence.
He believed that he had seen through her tricks
And seen her disguised strong inner lust through her eyes.
My girlfriend’s friend turned to me, and I turned to the man
And said: I say, pal, she does not feel like dancing right now.
My break-in gave the man the best opportunity to get himself out,
So he threw to my face a bash of two dirt curses sandwiched with a punch:
You four-eyed sissy! What a pimp dick you wanna put in here!
My eyeglasses flew away into the dark, leaving me bare-eyed,
Clear-minded, among splitting stars and colored light, realizing
That I was not his match, definitely not!
So it was good to be timely pulled aside by two women who escorted me
Through the crowd. Me, turning back like an indignant mouse.
My girls were understanding, and also they knew exactly what to say:
Not worth while to embroil into anything with that sort of lowly beasts.
The sultriness on the summer road outside The Union’s Club
Refreshed me a lot, but my face was searing in the aimless silent cruise:
Should I really believe that weakness could be a quality of virtue?
Oct. 23-24, 2008