Crying With Glasses On

by Eric McHenry


It’s such a grownup thing to do,
Like renting tap shoes to perform
for no one in an electrical storm.
What’s wrong with you?

Remove your spectacles and cry,
already. If there’s rain
on your side of the windowpane
you’re probably the sky.

What’s the intention of a tear
if not to lubricate and cleanse?
I’ll tell you: a corrective lens
is making things too clear.

In college I could see the future 
coming and would often 
pop out my contacts first, to soften 
its least attractive feature.

If you’ll just give it half an hour,
grief will discover 
you drawing steam-roses in the shower,
 and join you, like a lover.

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