I am seated in an armchair.
You are reading, on a sofa, six feet away.
Your forehead, your glasses, your beard have disappeared.
This is my poem about losing sight
As your face becomes an outline
And your features become shadow
Across this well-lit room
This is a poem about losing sight
Of your glance, your smile, your frown—
Although we are this close.
I am standing on a city corner,
Looking across a street and down a block.
It is a sunny day.
This is a poem about spotting you–
Your shape, your stance, your walk.
Moving toward me from almost a block away.
You stride steadily in my direction.
But, this is a poem of wanting to see your details,
When only your outline seems to approach.
I am in my bright red Toyota, driving.
It is a day both of clouds and of sun.
This is a poem of surprise
When red lights and green lights each lose their color
Sometimes in sun, sometimes in shade, sometimes not at all.
This is a poem of wondering when
I should stop driving my car even in daytime
And thinking perhaps that is now.
This is a poem of wondering if I’ll
Still recognize you coming down the street,
If you gain or lose weight or start to limp or require a cane.
Or is this a poem of darting past red lights and green
Startling strangers when I run to them
Hoping it’s you.