Reader, today I have a follow-up appointment with the eye doctor. Hopefully, I’ll crank out something substantial after getting back. For now, here are a few lines of hastily written verse to explain how my life has changed. I suspect a few of you will be able to relate.
If seeing is believing,
Then, mama, I’m a-grieving:
New smoking creases by my lips.
How ever shall I come to grips
With these dust bunnies on the floor,
My grime-streaked vanity, and more —
My modem cord a Gordian knot
Around my swivel chair; Like Lot,
I’m noticing a lot of ash —
On keyboard, speakers; and a cache
Of Pall Mall butts I’d “saved for later.”
My pad is an artillery crater!
I’ll stand no more deceiving.
This place I fondly call my lair
Has fallen into disrepair
While the scales were on my eyes;
Now the mess is undisguised.
My candles, which once seemed so chic,
Have puddled: counter-top batik!
Books look grand when lightly dusted;
Contra natura, mine have rusted!
The sight burns like a salty Speedo,
With heavy heart, I mumble, “Credo.”